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 LEONORA D'ORCO 
 
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 I 
 
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 There is a mountain pass, not far from the 
 shores of the Lago Maggiore, which has been 
 famous of late years for anything but fetes and 
 festivals. There, many an unfortunate traveller 
 has been relieved of the burden of worldly 
 wealth, and sometimes of all earthly cares; and 
 there, many a postillion has quietly received, 
 behind an oak-tree or a chesnut, a due share of 
 the day's earnings from a body of those Italian 
 gentlemen whose life is generally spent in work- 
 ing upon the highways, either with a long gun 
 in their hands or a chain round their middles. 
 But, dear reader, the times I speak of were 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 6 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 centuries ago — those named " the good old 
 times," though Heaven only knows why they 
 were called " good." 
 
 The world was in a very strange state just 
 then. The resurrection of art — the recovery of 
 letters — the new birth of science, marked out the 
 age as one of extraordinary development; but 
 the state of society from which all these bright 
 things sprang — flowers rising from a dunghill — 
 was one of foul and filthy fermentation, where 
 every wickedness that the corrupt heart of man 
 can devise worked and travailed for the birth of 
 better things. That pass, in those ''good old 
 times," saw every day as much high-handed 
 wrong and ruthless bloodshed as any pass in all 
 Italy at the present time. 
 
 But such was not destined to be the case upon 
 the present occasion, though the times of which 
 I write were the end of the fifteenth and the be- 
 ginning of the sixteenth centuries. Guilt, and 
 fraud, and even murder, often in those days co- 
 vered themselves with eolden embroidery and per- 
 fumed flowers ; and, interposed between acts of
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 violence, rapine, and destruction, were brilliant 
 festivals, the luxurious banquet, and the merry 
 dance. 
 
 Wickedness, like virtue, proposes to itself en- 
 joyment for its object; and the Bible is right 
 when, as it often does, it uses the word wisdom 
 as synonymous with virtue, for in the wisdom of 
 the means is the certainty of the attainment. 
 But the men of those days, as if they felt — how 
 could they avoid feeling? — the insecurity of the 
 ground on which they based their endeavours for 
 the acquisition of happiness, were content to 
 take the distant and doubtful payment by instal- 
 ments of fruition, and let the revel, the pageant, 
 the debauch go to the great reckoning as so much 
 gained, without thinking of the terrible per 
 contra. 
 
 That pass was well fitted to afford a scene for 
 many of the dealings of those or these days. 
 There the robber might lurk perfectly concealed 
 in the dark nooks and crannies of the rocks, to 
 spring forth upon the unwary traveller when 
 least prepared — there a handful of men i\xiA\
 
 8 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 defend the passage against an army — there, the 
 gay, happy party might raise the wild echo of 
 the mountains to their joyous songs — and there 
 the artist might linger for long hours, studying 
 the fantastic sliapes into which the ground has 
 been thrown, and filling up the shadowy recesses 
 with forms such as Rosa loved to draw. 
 
 For somewhat less than two miles, the road, 
 which, even in those days, was a good and well- 
 constructed highway, passed between two ranges 
 of rocks. On one side — the left hand, going 
 north — a stream ran by the side of the path, 
 some twenty feet below its level, but the bank 
 itself could be easily descended to the river, and 
 the stream, though deep in some places, was 
 easily to be crossed at others, where it spread 
 out over fallen rocks and stones. But what w^as 
 the use of crossing it? On the other side was 
 no path, and nothing but tall, ragged cliffs, in 
 some places upright and flat as if they had been 
 cut with a knife, in others assuming the most 
 wild and fantastic forms. Here was a strange 
 grinning face, of gigantic size, starting forth in
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 9 
 
 stone from the surface of the cliff; there a whole 
 statue standing out from the rocky mass, as if 
 a sentinel guarding the pass; then would come 
 a castle with towers and keep, ballium and bar- 
 bican and all, and yet nought but mere rock, 
 wrought by no hands but those of time, earth- 
 quake, and tempest. But every here and there, 
 from pinnacle and point, or out of dell and 
 cavern, would spring a dark pine or light green 
 ash; and the sight of even vegetable life would 
 harmonise the scene with human thoughts. 
 
 The average width of the bottom of the val- 
 ley, including river and road, might be a hundred 
 yards; but there was one place, nearly at the 
 middle of the gorge — probably where, in ages 
 far remote, before history or even tradition be- 
 gan, the stream, rushing new-born from the 
 mountains, had paused in its course to gather 
 strength ere it forced its way through the rocky 
 barrier opposed to it — in which a little amphi- 
 theatre appeared, the mountains receding on 
 either hand to let the river make a circuit round 
 a low knoll and its adjacent meadow, some three 
 B 5
 
 10 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 hundred yards across. A clump of trees had 
 gathered together on the top of the little hillock, 
 the turf was short and smooth ; the stream, though 
 still rapid, and fretting at the fallen stones in 
 its way, had less of the torrent-like turbulence 
 which it displayed were the pass was narrower; 
 now and then, too, it would lapse into a quiet, 
 deep, unruffled pool, where the many-colored 
 rocks and pebbles at the bottom could be seen, 
 glazed and brightened by its crystal waters; and 
 the white clouds, floating over the deep blue 
 Italian sky, would seem to pause, with curious 
 pleasure, in their flight, to look down for a mo- 
 ment, on that fair spot, amid so much stony 
 ruggedness. 
 
 Tlirough this wild gorge, toward noon of a soft 
 but breezy spring day in the year of grace 1494, 
 coming from the northwest, rode a gay, a numer- 
 ous, and brilliant a party; too few, indeed, to 
 constitute an army, but too many and too well 
 armed to fear the attack of any party of banditti 
 less in number than those great mercenary bands 
 whose leisure in those days was seldom long
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 11 
 
 enough to rob on their own account, so great 
 was the demand for their services, in the same 
 way, among the princes of the land. And yet 
 the cavalcade of which I speak did not altogether 
 assume a military aspect. It is true that the 
 rear was brought up by a body of a couple of 
 hundred lances, and that between these and 
 those who rode foremost were a number of gentle- 
 men, old and young, from beneath whose surcoats 
 glanced corslet and cuissard, and who, though 
 they rode with velvet cap on head and sometimes 
 a hawk upon the wrist, had helmet, and lance, 
 and shield near at hand, borne by gay and 
 splendidly-dressed pages. But the most remark- 
 able group had no warlike signs about it. All 
 men but ecclesiastics and serfs, in those days, 
 bore some kind of arms during their most 
 peaceful avocations; and thus there were swords 
 and daggers enough among the little party ; but 
 there were men in the robes of the Church — 
 bishops, and archdeacons, and even a monk or 
 two, while those of secular habit looked more 
 like the carpet- treading, soft-lying children of a
 
 12 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 court than warriors born for strife and con- 
 quest. 
 
 Thrown a little in advance of the mass rode 
 two men at arms, heavily harnessed, and behind 
 them, at perhaps twenty paces distance, five or 
 six others, lance in hand. Then, however, came 
 the principal group, at the head of which, with 
 a crimson velvet bonnet or round cap on his 
 head, ornamented with a single large ruby clasp- 
 ing a long, thin feather, appeared, as it seemed, 
 a mere youth. He was short in stature, and 
 somewhat, though not remarkably, deformed ; at 
 least, the fall of his wide and fur trimmed mantle 
 concealed in a great degree the defect of symme- 
 try in his figure. All, indeed, had been done 
 that the tailor's courtly art could do to conceal 
 it, and the eye was more inclined to rest upon 
 the countenance than upon the form. The face 
 was not very handsome, but there was a frank, 
 bold expression about it which won upon the re- 
 gard at first sight; and yet a certain look of 
 suffering — the trace, as it seemed, of a struggle 
 between a high courage and bodily infirmity —
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 13 
 
 saddened his aspect. A mere passing stranger 
 would have fixed the age of that young horse- 
 man probably at eighteen or nineteen; but he 
 had seen, in reality, between twenty-two and 
 twenty -three years; and although many vicissi- 
 tudes had not attended his course, enough ex- 
 perience of the world, and courts, and men, had 
 been his to have made him older in appearance 
 and older in mind than he was. 
 
 Grouped half a step behind this figure, and 
 stretching quite across the road — for no one 
 would yield a pUice which he could fairly claim 
 near the fountain of all honour and the source of 
 advancement — were a number of cavaliers, of all 
 sorts of callings, distinguished in general by some 
 peculiarity of costume. At least, any eye accus- 
 tomed to the dress of that day could distinguish 
 among them the hard old warrior, the bishop, the 
 high officer of the law, and gay and gallant 
 courtiers not a few, among whom, holding their 
 rank immediately behind the principal personage, 
 were six pages, habited in what was called purple 
 cloth of gold, mounted on light but beautiful
 
 14 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 horses, bedizened with silken housings, and knots 
 of ribbons, and flaunting feathers. 
 
 Among these last was no rivalry for place, for 
 each had his particular station assigned to him; 
 but with the rest an occasional angry word, and 
 a more frequent angry look, would mark the in- 
 dignation of some aspiring courtier at what he 
 thought an attempt upon the part of another to 
 get before him. 
 
 " My Lord of Tremouille," said one sharply, 
 ''I wish you would refrain your horse; I have 
 hardly space to ride." 
 
 " He will not be refrained, my reverend lord," 
 replied the other, "'tis an ambitious beast, well 
 nigh as aspiring as a churchman. He will for- 
 ward, whatever be in his way. Good sooth, he 
 knows his place well too, and thinks that, though 
 he might make a poor show in a king's closet, he 
 may be found better near his sovereign in the 
 march or the battle than any of the mules of the 
 Church." 
 
 The words were spoken in no very low tone, 
 and probably they reached the ears of the young
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 15 
 
 man at the head of the cavalcade; but he took 
 no notice, though the prelate turned somewhat 
 red, and several who were near laughed low ; and 
 a moment or two after, the whole party emerged 
 from the narrower part of the gorge into that 
 little amphitheatre which I have lately described. 
 
 " Why, what is here''" cried the leader of the 
 band, reining up his horse. " This is a scene of 
 fairy land ! Who expected to meet with such a 
 spectacle in this desert ?" 
 
 '-'Why, Sire, "replied the prelate, "you may 
 remember his Excellency, the Rr^gent of Milan, 
 promised to meet you somewhere near this spot — 
 at least before you reached the city." 
 
 " Ay, Louis the Moor knows where to lay chaff 
 for young birds," muttered La Tremouille; " com- 
 mend me to these Italians for wheedling and 
 trickery." 
 
 "Hush, hush!" said one of his companions; 
 " you cannot deny, Tremouille, that this Ludo- 
 vic is a stout and skilful soldier, as well as a 
 shrewd politician. I know not how he gained 
 the name of ' The Moor,' but—"
 
 16 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 " Why, they gave him the name because all 
 his relations die black, or turn black after they 
 die," answered the gallant soldier, Avith a bitter 
 laugh; " but, on my life, the pageant is pretty. 
 Tis a gallantry not expected in this wild place. 
 Only, my good friend, look to what wine you 
 drink at Ludovic's expense; it sometimes has a 
 strange taste, and stranger consequences, men 
 say, especially upon his enemies." 
 
 "I am no enemy," answered the other; "you, 
 look to yourself, Tremouille. You must either 
 dare the boccone or die of thirst." 
 
 " Nay, lie will find out that I am one of his 
 best friends," answered La Tremouille ; " for I 
 would f\iin have dissuaded the king from this wild 
 expedition; and Master Ludovic, who urged it 
 so strongly, will find, before he has done, that, 
 ask a Frenchman to dinner, and he'll stay to 
 supper also." 
 
 The scene which had excited so much surprise, 
 and even admiration among the French, derived 
 its principal interest from the ruggedness of the 
 objects around. Some twenty or thirty small
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 17 
 
 tents had been pitched in the little meadow, 
 round which the river circled, each with its pen- 
 non fluttering from the top of the gilt pole which 
 supported it, while the group of trees upon the 
 little monticule in the midst was so interlaced, at 
 some eiglit feet from the ground, with ribbons 
 and festoons of flowers, that it afforded as com- 
 plete a shade from the sun as any of the pavi- 
 lions. The trunks of the trees, too, were bound 
 round with garlands, and although neither Tasso 
 nor Guarini had yet fully revived the taste for the 
 pastoral amongst the Italian people, the groups 
 which were seen, both in the tents and under the 
 branches, were all habited as shepherds and 
 shepherdesses, according to the most approved 
 notions of Golden Age costume in those days. 
 
 In each of the pavilions, the canvas door of 
 which was tlirown wide open, was spread a table 
 apparently well supplied, and beneath the trees 
 appeared a kingly board covered with fine linen 
 and rich plate, while a buffet behind groaned 
 beneath a mass of gold and silver. But the sharp 
 eye of La Tremouille soon espied that the two
 
 18 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 shepherds who stood at either end of the buffet, 
 as well as two more behind it, were especially 
 well armed for a pastoral race ; and he did not 
 fail to comment with a laugh upon the anomaly. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh !" cried the young King Charles 
 VIII., turning his head over his shoulder to the 
 stout soldier, but smiling at his remarks, '* why 
 should not shepherds have arms? They must de- 
 fend their muttons, especially when such wolves 
 as you are about." 
 
 La Tremouille answered with a proverb of very 
 ancient date, " Well, sire, they cannot say I am 
 a wolf in sheep's clothing. God send your ma- 
 jesty may not find some in this country, where 
 they are plenty, I am told. Will you not dis- 
 mount, sire, to do honor to this festa?" 
 
 "But where are our hosts?" asked Charles, 
 looking round. " My Lord Archbishop, can you 
 distinguish among the shepherds, Prince Ludovic 
 or his fair lady ? You have had advantage of us 
 all in seeing their Highnesses." 
 
 '' On my hopes, sire, I cannot tell which they 
 are, if they be here," replied the prelate. "Here,
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 19 
 
 pretty maiden, will you let us know who is the 
 lord of this feast, and who are to be the 
 guests ?" 
 
 The last words were spoken in Italian to a very 
 handsome dark-eyed shepherdess, who, with a 
 coquettish air, had passed somewhat near the 
 royal party. But the girl merely replied by the 
 word ^' Hark !" bending her head on one side 
 and affecting to listen attentively. A moment 
 after, the flourish of some trumpets was heard 
 from the continuation of the pass on the other 
 side of the meadow ; and La Tremouille, turning 
 round, gave some orders in a low tone to one of 
 his attendants. By him they were carried to the 
 rear, and immediately the party of lances which 
 formed the king's escort put itself in motion, and 
 spread out round one side of the meadow in the 
 form of a crescent, leaving the monarch and his 
 immediate attendants grouped on horseback in 
 the midst. 
 
 If this was a movement of precaution against 
 any party approaching from the other side, it 
 was unnecessary. A moment after, on the op-
 
 20 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 posite side of the meadow, issuing from the gorge 
 like a stream of gold, appeared a cavalcade which 
 the chroniclers of the day have delighted to de- 
 scribe as the height of splendor and magnificence. 
 At its head appeared Ludovico Sforza, nicknamed 
 " the Moor," accompanied by the Princess of Fer- 
 rara, his young wife, and followed by the whole 
 court of Milan, each vying with the other inluxury 
 and display. " The princess,'* says an Italian 
 writer of the day, ^' was mounted on a superb horse, 
 covered with cloth of gold and crimson velvet. 
 She wore a dress of green cloth of gold, floating 
 over which was a light gauze. Her hair, only 
 bound by a ribbon, fell gracefully upon her shoul- 
 ders and upon her bosom. On her head she bore 
 a hat of crimson silk, surmounted by five or six 
 feathers of red and grey. Her suite comprised 
 twenty-two ladies of the first rank, all dressed 
 like herself, and six cars followed, covered with 
 cloth of gold, and filled with the rarest beauties 
 of Italy." 
 
 It would be tedious as well as diflScult to give 
 any description of the scene that followed. The
 
 LEONORA D*ORCO. 21 
 
 two parties soon mingled togetlicr. Ceremony 
 and panide were forgotten in gallantry and en- 
 joyment. The younger men at once gave them- 
 selves up to the pleasures of the hour, and even 
 the older and more sedate warriors and counsel- 
 lors soon shook off their frosty reserve under the 
 warming influence of beauty and wine; and thus 
 began the expedition of Charles YIIT. to Naples, 
 more like some festal pilgrimage than the hostile 
 invasion of a neighbour's dominions. Thus it be- 
 gan, and thus it proceeded till the end was ob- 
 tained, and then the scene changed to hard blows 
 instead of feasts and pageants, and care and 
 anxiety instead of revelry and enjoyment. 
 
 I have said it would be tedious to describe 
 what followed ; but there were episodes in the 
 little drama acted in that wild amphitheatre 
 which connect themselves with my story, and 
 must be told.
 
 22 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 General conversation between the two courts 
 of France and Milan was somewhat difficult; for, 
 to say sooth, there were many there who could 
 not speak the language of their neighbours, or 
 spoke it very imperfectly. But Frenchmen, 
 and Italians likewise, are famous for delivering 
 themselves from such difficulties. They talk 
 with a happy carelessness of whether they are 
 understood or not, and eke out the defect of lan- 
 guage with a sign or gesture. But there were 
 some, there present, to whom both tongues were 
 familiar; and while the King of France sat 
 beneath the trees with Ludovico Sforza and his 
 lovely wife, one of the youths who had followed
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 23 
 
 him might he seen at the other side of the little 
 grove, stretched easily on the ground hetween 
 two young girls who had accompanied tlie 
 princess, and with one of whom, at least, his ac- 
 quaintance seemed of early date. 
 
 I'he youtig man was tall, well formed, and 
 handsome; and he looked older than he really 
 was, for he had not yet seen more than eighteen 
 summers. The two girls were younger still, 
 neither having reached the age of fifteen years. 
 Both gave promise of exceeding heauty — otherwise 
 perhaps they would have been excluded from the 
 gay train of the princess; but, though woman- 
 hood ripens earlier under Italian skies than in 
 colder climates, they were still evidently in girl- 
 hood, and, what was more rare, they had 
 apparently preserved all the freshness and 
 innocent frankness of their age. 
 
 One called the young man " Cousin Lorenzo," 
 and teased him gaily Avith criticisms of his dress 
 and appearance; vowed he had promised to bring 
 back a beard from France, and yet he had not 
 even a moustache; declared that she abominated
 
 24 LEONORA d'oRCO. 
 
 the hair cut short before and hanging down 
 behind after the French mode, and assumed that 
 the hirge sleeves of his surcoat must be made to 
 carry provisions in, not only for himself, but 
 for all his company. She was the younger 
 of the two, and probably not yet fouiteen 
 years of age; and though tliere was a world 
 of merriment in her sparkling blue eyes, and a 
 gay, bright smile kept playing lightly round 
 her lips, yet it would have been a hard critic 
 who could, in her, have discovered any of that 
 coquetry from which even her age is not exempt. 
 On the contrary, she seemed to strive to direct 
 her cousin's admiration to her fair companion, 
 who, in her eyes, was the most beautiful and 
 perfect creature in the universe; and, in truth, 
 there was many a one in after days who thought 
 so to his cost. 
 
 Very diflferent in personal appearance was she 
 from her younger companion : tall for her age, 
 and of that light, slender form which, in early 
 youth, often promises the rich, flowing contour, 
 at an after period, which Guido loved, and even
 
 LEONORA D^ORCO. ^^ 
 
 Raphael and Julio Romano did not undervalue. 
 She was dark in complexion too — that is to say, 
 her hair was black as a raven's wing; and her 
 full, almond-shaped eyes, with the lashes that 
 shaded them, and the arched eyebrows above 
 were dark as the hair. But yet there was some- 
 thing that softened all. Either it was the flowing 
 of the lines into each other, or the happy blend- 
 ing of the tints, but nothing in the face or forux 
 was sharp or too defined. The skin was clear, 
 and soft, and bright — so far dark, indeed, as to 
 harmonise with the hair and eyes; but through 
 the slight olive tint of southern climes shone the 
 clear, warm rose of health ; and, over all, youth 
 and dawning womanhood shed their thousand 
 inexpressible graces, like the winged loves which, 
 in one of Albano's pictures, flutter round the 
 Goddess of Beauty. She was gay, too — gay 
 even as her bright-eyed companion at times: 
 but it was with sudden fits and starts; and every 
 now and then would intervene lapses of thought, 
 as if she were questioning with herself of things 
 beyond her knowledge. It is not rare to find that 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 a thoughtful youth ripens into a passionate 
 maturity. Her dress was one common at 
 that day, we find, in the court of Ferrara; but 
 it had not long been the mode in any part of 
 Italy ; and to the eyes of the young Lorenzo, 
 who had been nearly two years absent from his 
 native country, it seemed strange and hardly 
 decent. It consisted of a robe somewhat like 
 that of the princess, except that the ground of 
 the cloth of gold, instead of green, was of a pale 
 delicate rose color. The sleeves, in the young 
 girl's case, fitted tight to the rounded arms, but 
 the front of each, from the shoulder nearly to 
 the wrist, was cut open, showing the chemise of 
 snowy lawn, except where, every two or three 
 inches, a small jewel, in the form of a button, 
 gathered the edges of the cloth of gold together. 
 The robe in front also was thrown back from the 
 neck and bosom, which was only shaded by the 
 profuse curls of jetty hair. Instead of the small 
 hat, with its plume of feathers, worn by the wife 
 of the regent, a veil of rich black lace, fastened 
 at the back of the head with a jewelled pin, thence
 
 27. 
 
 to the shoulders; and round her waist was a 
 knotted cord of gold, the tassels of which, 
 strangely twisted and contorted, fell almost to 
 her feet. 
 
 Such was the appearance of Leonora d'Orco 
 at the age of fourteen, or very little more. Of that 
 which is beyond appearance I may have occasion 
 to speak hereafter. 
 
 Facts may seem trite, which nevertheless must 
 be said in explanation of the character he depicts 
 by anyone who writes the history of another. We 
 lose the key of a cabinet, nearly new, perhaps, 
 and we send to a vender of old iron to see if we 
 cannot find one to fit it. We select one and 
 then another for trial, and find at length a key 
 which seems to conform to the shape of the key- 
 hole. Would any one object to its trial because 
 it is old and rust- worn? Well, it is old j it may 
 have served in a hundred locks before, for aught 
 we know ; but it fits, and opens, and shuts this 
 lock, and that is all we have to do with it. 
 
 It has often been said, and was frequently in- 
 sisted upon by Goethe, that each human being is 
 c 2
 
 28 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 a different being at each period of his age from 
 that which he was at an anterior period. The 
 very substance of the body, say the physiologists, 
 is entirely changed in every seven years. What 
 of the mind? Do cares, and sorrows, and expe- 
 rience, and joys, and hopes, and fruitions, effect 
 no change in it ? God forbid ! If we believe the 
 mind immortal, and not subject, like the body, 
 to death and resurrection, still greater must be 
 the changes; for its state must be progressive 
 towards evil or towards good. Expansion cer- 
 tainly comes with knowledge; every day has its 
 lesson, its reproof, its encouragement ; and the 
 very development or decay of the mortal frame 
 affects the tenant within — hardens, strengthens, 
 elevates, instructs; or, entenders, enfeebles, de- 
 presses, depraves. Suffice it here to say, that 
 perhaps no one ever in life experienced greater 
 changes of thought, feeling, character, than 
 Leonora d*Orco, as the winged moments flew 
 over her head. And yet the indestructible es- 
 sence was the same; every essential element re- 
 mained ; it was but the combinations that were
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 29 
 
 modified. A few years later, had you asked her 
 if she had ever felt such sensations, or thought 
 such thoughts as she felt and thought now, she 
 would instantly have said "No;" but one 
 moment's lifting of the veil which hides the 
 pictures of the past would have shown her that 
 she had felt, had thought such things; one 
 moment's scrutiny of her own heart would have 
 shown her that, in another form, she felt them, 
 thought them still. 
 
 But let us regard her only in the present. See 
 how her eye sparkles, how her lip wreaths itself 
 in smiles, and how the joyous laugh breaks forth 
 vilear, and sweet, and musical, finding expression 
 not only in its own melodious tones, but in every 
 feature — aye, and even in the colour that rises 
 in a gay bashfulness, and spreads suddenly over 
 cheek and brow, as if a ray of morning sunshine 
 had found its way through the green branches 
 and lighted up her face. And then all is still 
 again — still, and quiet, and thoughtful — and her 
 eyes bend down — and the long lashes kiss her 
 cheek — and the rose has faded away —and the
 
 so LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 clear skin is paler than before, till something 
 from one or the other of her gay companions 
 awakens merriment again, and then she changes 
 once more with the sudden change of mountain 
 skies. 
 
 But see ! they are talking of more serious 
 matters now. 
 
 "Not enter Milan!" cries Leonora: "not 
 enter beautiful Milan ! Signor Lorenzo, how is 
 that ? Have you lost all love and pride in your 
 own fair country?" 
 
 " I must not enter Milan," he answered with 
 a sigh ; " but if I might, Leonora, I could not." 
 
 " But why — why?" she asked eagerly; " are 
 you one of the exiles? Oh, if that is so, the 
 princess loves me well, and besides, when you 
 come with the King of France, a guest of Count 
 Ludovic, the past must be forgotten in the 
 present, and you be welcomed too. Oh, do not 
 say you will not come." 
 
 She spoke eagerly, and then cast down her 
 eyes, for his met hers with a look too full of ad- 
 miration to be mistaken.
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 31 
 
 " Do not ask him — do not ask him," said sweet 
 Bianca Maria di Rovera; "he is going to my 
 grandfather's villa till the king marches on. 
 That is already settled, Leonora." 
 
 " And you never told me, when your grand- 
 father engaged us to go there too," said Leo- 
 nora; " but how will the King of France be 
 pleased?" 
 
 " He has given permission," answered Lo- 
 renzo; ''he understands well that the son of 
 Carlo Yisconti could only enter Milan in one 
 manner." 
 
 The young girl bent her head, and only an- 
 swered, in a low tone, '-' I would fain hear more. 
 It seems to me a strange arrangement." 
 
 '' You shall hear all, at some other time and 
 place, Signora Leonora," replied Lorenzo : "every 
 minute I expect the trumpets to sound to horse; 
 and my tale, which is a sad one, should have some 
 quiet spot for the telling, and evening skies, and 
 few listeners near." 
 
 The listeners, indeed, were, or might be, too 
 many in a place where all was suspicion and
 
 32 LEONORA D^ORCO. 
 
 much was danger. Every instant some one was 
 passing near them — either one of the pastoral 
 gentry who had waited for the meeting of the 
 two courts, or some one from the suites of the 
 two princes. 
 
 The latter part of the lad's reply seemed at 
 once to awaken Leonora to the necessity of cau- 
 tion. Her younger companion, indeed, who 
 seemed ignorant of her cousin's early history, 
 pressed him with girlish eagerness to tell all then 
 and there ; but the other, who even then knew more 
 of Italian life — not without an effort, yet with 
 i-auch delicacy of judgment and feeling — directed 
 their conversation into other channels, and soon 
 brought back the gaiety and the sparkle which 
 at that time was cultivated almost as an art by 
 the higher classes of Italy. Speedily thought, 
 and sentiment, and mood followed the course of 
 even such light things as words : serious topics 
 and dark remembrances, and even present 
 dangers and discomforts, were forgotten ; — and, 
 us if in order to give relief to the lights in the 
 future of life some dark shades were needed — the
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 33 
 
 young three there gathered appeared to find 
 in the faint allusion made to more painful things 
 an accession of gaiety and enjoyment. The 
 strangeness of first acqaintance was cast away 
 between the two who had never met before. 
 Bianca Maria, or Blanche Marie, as the French 
 would have termed her, forgot how long a time 
 had passed since she had seen her cousin, and all 
 for the time was once more joy and ligh-hearted 
 merriment. The same spirit seemed to pervade 
 the whole party there assembled. It is hard to 
 say seemed^ for any eye that gazed upon that 
 scene would have boldly concluded that all was 
 peace and joy. 
 
 Oh, false word ! Oh, false seeming ! There was 
 doubt, and fear, and malevolence, and treachery 
 there in many a heart; and of all the groups into 
 which those two gay courts had separated them- 
 selves, perhaps reality, and enjoyment, and 
 careless mirth were more truly to be found among 
 those three young people, who, forgetful of 
 courtly ceremony, had taken their seats beneath 
 the trees on the west of the knoll, with their 
 c 5
 
 34 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 backs turned toward the royal and princely per- 
 sonages present. They, at least, knew how to 
 enjoy the hour; and there let us leave them, 
 with the benediction and applause of Lorenzo 
 the Magnificent upon them : 
 
 " Quant' e bellagiovinezza 
 
 Che si fugge tuttavia 
 
 Chi vuol esser lietto, sia 
 Di daman non c'e certezza.'*
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO, 35 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 If the world be a stage, as the greatest of earth's 
 poets has said, and all the men and women in it 
 merely players, human life divides itself not only 
 into acts, but scenes. The drop curtain falls for a 
 longer or a shorter period ; and, without whistle 
 or call, the place is shifted, and the interval is 
 filled up with nought which affects the actors be- 
 fore the public, or the general course of their 
 own parts, or the end of the great drama played. 
 Let us pass over the mere shiftings of the scene : 
 the pompous reception of Charles the VIII. in 
 Milan; the time he wasted there in youthful 
 merriment and courtly gallantry; the intrigues 
 ending in nothing, which went on during his 
 stay in the Lombard capital; all the French
 
 36 LEONORA D'oRCO. 
 
 gaiete decoeur with which the dashing and daring 
 warriors of the most charming land in the world 
 cut a throat, or make love, or stake a fortune on 
 a card — let us pass them all by, with the excep- 
 tion of one slight incident, which had some 
 influence upon the fate of one of our principal 
 characters. 
 
 It is very customary — indeed, it is always 
 customary with men of impulse, especially when 
 the impulses are impetuous and ill-regulated — 
 for persons possessing great power to be awed, 
 as it were, for a short time by the terrible respon- 
 sibilities of their position — to seek uninterrupted 
 thought, with an endeavour in their own mind 
 to find support under the weight from their own 
 intellect, or, frustrated in that dependence upon 
 so frail a reed, to apply to a higher guide, who 
 *.an give not only direction but strength — not 
 only counsel but capability. There is many 
 an occasion in which the most self-relying and 
 resolute feels the need of an intelligence higher 
 than his own, and a force beyond the force of 
 his own character.
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 37 
 
 In many respects the character of Charles YIII. 
 ■was to be admired. His expedition to Italy was 
 rash, ill-conceived, and ill-executed; but the 
 conception was great, the objects when rightly 
 viewed, noble, and the result, though not for- 
 tunate, such as showed in the young king the 
 higher qualities of fortitude, resolution, and that 
 courage which crushes obstacles by boldly con- 
 fronting them. But many a time Charles 
 'loubted of his own course — only, indeed, in 
 times of success and seeming prosperity — and 
 asking himself whether that course was right, 
 was prudent, was wise, sought guidance and in- 
 struction from on high. 
 
 On these occasions he avoided all companion- 
 ship, and asked direction from the throne of wis- 
 dom in solitary prayer. It was thus he came 
 forth in the early morning to the church of St. 
 Stephen, attended only by a single page, and 
 habited plainly enough to attract no attention. 
 He had entered the chapel of St. Ambrose, the 
 patron saint of the city, and was in the very 
 act of kneeling, when the voices of two other
 
 38 LEONORA D'OECO. 
 
 men, speaking somewhat loud in the general 
 stillness, attracted his attention. 
 
 " Ah !" said the one, " it was there he slew 
 him, and had there been men to second him, 
 Lombardy would have now been free." 
 
 "It goes about the city," said the other, "that 
 young Lorenzo, his son, is close at the gates of 
 Milan, ready to avenge his father's death upon 
 the Sforzeschi." 
 
 *' He had better look to his own safety," re- 
 plied the first speaker, " for he has to do with 
 powerful enemies, and what the strong hand and 
 the sword cannot accomplish, the dagger or the 
 cup can perchance perform." 
 
 The king listened, but nothing more of in- 
 terest met his ear, and when his prayer was 
 finished he returned to his private cabinet, and 
 wrote a few words in haste, without consulting 
 even his most approved counsellors. It was 
 done ', and then he rang a little hand-bell on the 
 table. It was not like a modern bell, being four 
 sided, but it had a good, loud sound, and it imme- 
 diately brought an attendant from the ante-room.
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 39 
 
 '* Call hither the Baron de Vitry," said the 
 king. He spoke of that De Yitrj who was the 
 ancestor of the well-known Marechal de Yitry, 
 and who, a few days after, became Marquis de 
 Vitry on the death of his father. " Tell him to 
 be quick, for he sleeps late when there is no 
 fighting to be done." 
 
 The man hastened away to execute his com- 
 mands, but it was some twenty minutes before 
 the officer summoned appeared, and then, to say 
 sooth, he was but imperfectly apparelled. There 
 was a point here and there untrussed, and his 
 collar was certainly not placed in its usual and 
 intended position — indeed, some severe critics of 
 costume might have supposed that it was turned 
 wrong side before. 
 
 " Always behind, De Vitry," said the monarch, 
 who had grown impatient in waiting. 
 
 " I was not behind at St. Aubin, sire," replied 
 the young officer with a gay confidence ; " but 
 sire, we were bound to sit up so late last night 
 for the honour of France that our eyes had leaden 
 weights upon them this .norning."
 
 40 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 " Ay, a revel, of course," said the king — " too 
 much revelling, De Vitry. We must think of 
 more serious things." 
 
 " Good faith ! sire, we are all ready," replied 
 the young officer; "we only revel because we 
 have nought else to do. While your majesty and 
 your wise counsellors are gravely deliberating in 
 the cabinet, we have nought else to do but dance, 
 and drink, and sing in the hall ; and I am sure 
 you, sire, would not have us behind the Italian in 
 dancing and drinking, when they go so far before 
 us in singing; but only give us something else 
 to do, and we are ready to ride, or fight, or work 
 in any way to-morrow." 
 
 The young king mused for a moment, and then 
 murmured the words, " A just reproof! " Then 
 taking the paper he had written, he added, 
 "Take a hundred men of your company of ord- 
 nance, De Vitry, and set out at once toward 
 Vigevano. Five miles on this side of the town, 
 on the bank of the Ticino, you will find a villa 
 belonging to the Count of Rovera. There you 
 will find young Lorenzo Visconti. Give him that
 
 LEONORA d'oROO. 41 
 
 paper, appointing him to the command of the 
 troop of poor young Moustier, who was stabbed, 
 no one knows why or how." 
 
 *'0h, sire, I know why, and how too," answered 
 De Vitry, in his usual gay, light-hearted tone^ 
 " he was stabbed because he chose to make love 
 to the daughter of the confectioner who lives just 
 below the castle — she is, indeed, a wonderful little 
 beauty; but she is betrothed to a young armourer 
 md Moustier was not right to seek her for his 
 leman, under her promised husband's very nose. 
 There are plenty of free-hearted dames in Mikm, 
 without his breaking up the happiness of two 
 young people who never sought him. Then, as 
 to the way, sire, that is very easily explained — 
 a dark corner, a strong hand, and a sharp dagger 
 jver the left shoulder, and the thing was soon 
 accomplished. Ludovic says he will have the 
 young armourer broken on the wheel, to satisfy 
 four majesty; but I trust you will tell him not; 
 for, in the first place, nothing can be proved 
 against him ; and, in the next, according to his 
 own notions, he did nothing but what was right;
 
 42 LEONORA D^ECO. 
 
 and, in the next, De Moustier was all in the 
 wrong; and, in the next, this youth, Tomaso 
 Bondi, is the kest armourer in Italy — no man I 
 ever saw can inlay a Milan corslet as he can." 
 
 " All very cogent reasons," answered the king, 
 " and the regent shall do nought to him^ to sa- 
 tisfy me. De Moustier forgot the warning I gave 
 him after I was ill at Lyons, when he insulted the 
 young wife of the dean of the weavers ; and as 
 Jie has sought his fate, so he must abide it. But, 
 as 1 have said, seek out my young Cousin Lorenzo, 
 give him the paper, and tell him to join you 
 next day at Pavia or Vigevano; but do not let 
 your men dismount, and take care that they com- 
 mit no outrage on the lands of Signor Eovera. At 
 Vigevano you may halt till you hear that I am on 
 my way to Pavia. You shall have timely notice." 
 
 The officer took the open paper from the king's 
 hand, and in a nonchalant way gazed at the con- 
 tents, exclaiming as he did so, " On my faith, it 
 is fairly written !" 
 
 The cheek of Charles turned somewhat red, 
 and, fixing his eyeTieenly upon DeVitry, he said.
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 43 
 
 "You mean no offence, young sir, I believe; but 
 Baron de Vitry, I tell you, if two years ago your 
 king could not Avrite his name, it was not bis 
 fault. Would that all my nobility would try to 
 retrieve their errors as I have striven to remedy 
 the defects of my education/' 
 
 They oung monarch was evidently mucTi pained 
 at what he thought an allusion to the ignorance 
 in which he had been brought up; and De Vitry 
 whose thoughts were perfectly innocent of such 
 offence, bent his knee and kissed his sovereign's 
 hand, saying, in his frank way, "On my life, sire, 
 I only admired the writing, and wished I were 
 as good a clerk. Heaven knows that, though I 
 can write fast enough, no man can read as fast 
 what I have written. It has cost me many a time 
 more than an hour to make out my own letters. 
 This carrying a confounded lance, ever since I 
 was eighteen, makes my finger unfit for handling 
 a quill ; and, unless I fall in love, and have to 
 write sweet letters to fair ladies — which God 
 forfend ! — I dare say the time will come when I 
 shall be unable to write at all."
 
 44 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 The king smiled good-humoreJly at his blunt 
 officer, for Charles's anger soon passed away, and, 
 bidding him rise, he said, " There, go, De Yitry ; 
 you are a rough specimen of our French soldiers, 
 for these silken ladies of the South. I fear you 
 will not make much way with them." 
 
 " Oh, they love me all the better, sire," an- 
 swered De Vitry ; " I'm a new dish at their table. 
 But I go to perform your will, sire; and, good 
 faith! I am not sorry to be in the saddle again. 
 But what am I to do with that young fellow. 
 Bayard, who struck the big Ferrara man for 
 calling us barbarians? We have kept a close 
 eye upon him, for he seems never to dream that, 
 if the signor were to meet him alone, he would 
 put a dagger in him, or break his back as a 
 storm breaks a hard young sapling. Good faith, 
 sire, the man would eat the boy up as the old 
 giants used to do with the princes and princesses 
 of I don't know where in days of yore." 
 
 " That is well bethought," replied the king. 
 '' I wish to have no brawling, De Vitry. Take 
 Bayard with you to Pavia. Stay ! let me con-
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 45 
 
 sider what I can do to smooth his removal from 
 the court, for he is a brave lad, and will some 
 time make a name in life. They are hardy 
 soldiers, these men of the Isere." 
 
 " He is of such stuff as kings of France have 
 most need of," answered De Vitry. " Give him 
 ten years more, and I would match him against 
 Mohammed. But the cornet of my troop, you 
 know, sire, died on Friday last of wine poison at 
 Beccafico's — we hold our life on slender tenure 
 in this land — and if your majesty would please 
 to name Bayard to fill his place, he would be 
 very well content, for he loves Bellona^s harness 
 more than Cupid^s, as my old tutor, the Abbe 
 de Mortemar, used to say when he could not get 
 me to construe Ovid. But I know not how 
 Bayard may take Signor Lorenzo's appointment 
 to De Moustier's troop, he being also one of your 
 pages, and more than a year older." 
 
 " Lorenzo Yisconti is our cousin, sir,'* replied 
 Charles, somewhat sternly ; " and, were he not 
 so, we suffer no one to comment on our will in 
 ordaining how we shall be served. If Pierre de
 
 46 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 Terrail hesitates at the honor we confer on him 
 so young, because we name our own kindred to 
 a higher command at a younger age, let him re- 
 main as he is. We will not resent such conduct, 
 but we will make him feel that we are King of 
 France." 
 
 There was sufficient irritation in his tone to 
 induce the young officer to withdraw; and he 
 left the king's presence, repeating to himself, 
 " Our cousin! I see not how that is; but we 
 are all cousins in Adam, God wot; and the 
 affinity must be somewhere thereabout, I take it. 
 Well, God send me some royal cousins, or right 
 noble ones, for 'tis the only road to promotion in 
 this world."
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 47 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 It was early in the month of September. The 
 grapes were already purple with the draughts of 
 sunshine which they had drunk in through a 
 long, ardent summer, and the trees had already 
 begun to display " the sear and yellow leaf" — 
 early, early, like those who exhaust in life's 
 young day all the allotted pleasures of man's 
 little space. The autumn had fallen upon them 
 soon. Yet it was a lovely scene, as you gazed 
 from one of those little monticules which stud 
 the Lombard plains. There is something in 
 the descent from the mountains into Italy which 
 seems to anticipate the land — not so much in 
 its physical as in its moral features ; a softness,
 
 48 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 a gentleness, a gracefulness which is all its own, 
 while round about, unseen, but felt in everv 
 breeze, is the dark, pestilential swamp, gloomy 
 and despairing, or else a brighter but more 
 treacherous land, fair to the eye, but destructive 
 to vitality, which lures but to destroy. One 
 easily conceives the character of a large portion, 
 of the people of the Middle Ages in Italy from 
 the aspect of the land. But it is of the people 
 of the Middle Ages only. One can hardly do- 
 rive any notion of the ancient Roman from the 
 characteristics of the country till one plunges 
 into the Campagna, where the stern, hard fea- 
 tures of the scenery seem to represent that force 
 which, alas ! has passed away. 
 
 And yet it was a lovely scene, and a momcLt 
 of sweet and calm enjoyment, as three young 
 people sat together on the lower step of a terrace 
 near Vigevano, with a fountain gushing an 1 
 murmuring some twenty feet above, and a beai - 
 tiful garden filled with mulberry trees and viner, 
 and some oranges, not very luxuriant, but dif- 
 fusing a pleasant but languid odour round. The
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 49 
 
 eye wandered over the shrubs and trees to the 
 lands watered by the Ticinoon its way to Pavia; 
 and beyond, in the evening light, long lines of 
 undulating country were marked out in the deep 
 blue tints peculiar to the distant scenery of Italy. 
 The terrace, below which the three were seated, 
 was long and wide, and rising therefrom, near 
 the centre, was one face of a villa, built in a 
 style of which few specimens remain. The taste 
 and genius of Palladio had not yet given to the 
 villa-architecture of Lombardy that lightness 
 and grace which formed the characteristic of a 
 new style of art. There was something, at that 
 time, in every country-house of Italy of the 
 heavy, massive repulsiveness of the old castello. 
 But yet the dawn of a better epoch was apparent, 
 in the works of Aiidrea Palladio's great master, 
 Trissino; and in the very villa of which I speak, 
 though here and there a strong, tall tower was 
 apparent, and the basement story contained stone 
 enough to have built a score of modern houses; 
 much ornament of a light and graceful character 
 had been lavished upon the whole building, as 
 VOL. I. D
 
 60 LEONORA D*ORCO. 
 
 if to conceal that it was constructed for defence 
 as well as enjoyment. Indeed, as is generally 
 the case, there was a certain harmony between 
 the times and state of society and the construc- 
 tions of the period. The Italian smiled, and 
 revelled, and feasted, and called in music, and 
 song, and poetry, to cover over the dangers, and 
 the griefs, and the terrors of every day ; and 
 the palace in the city, or the villa in the country, 
 was often as richly decorated as if its massy 
 inner walls were never intended to preserve the 
 life and fortune of its owner from the hands of 
 rude assailants, nor its hhlls ever to witness 
 deeds of horror and cruelty within their dark 
 recesses. 
 
 It was, indeed, an evening and a scene such as 
 Lorenzo Yisconti had described as fitted for the 
 telling of his own history. All was still and 
 quiet around; the leaves of the vines hardly 
 moved with the light air, the glow of the western 
 sky faded off into deep purple as the eye was 
 raised from the horizon to the zenith ; no moving 
 object — no, not a floating cloud, could be seen on
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 61 
 
 any side; and the murmur of the fountain 
 seemed to add to, rather than detract from, the 
 stillness. The three young people — I need not 
 tell the reader who they were — had ranged 
 themselves as their nature or their temporary 
 feelings prompted. On the lowest step Bianca 
 Maria had placed herself, looking up with her 
 sweet confiding eyes towards the young com- 
 panion whom she almost idolized. On the step 
 above was her cousin Lorenzo ; and on a step above 
 them both, but leaning with her elbow on her 
 knee, and her cheek resting on her hand, a little 
 to the right of Lorenzo and the left of Bianca, 
 was Leonora d'Orco, with her d;irk eyes bent 
 down, drinking in the words of the young 
 soldier. 
 
 It was a group such as Bronzino might have 
 delighted to paint; for not only were there those 
 colors in it which all Italians love, and all 
 Italian artists take pleasure in blending and har- 
 monizing — the deep browns, which characterise 
 the complexion of their country, with the rarer 
 and exceptional fairness sometimes found among 
 
 D 2 
 
 U. OF ILL. LIDw
 
 52 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 them — the flowing flaxen hair of the North, 
 and its rich crimsons, but in the dress of the 
 three also there were those strong contrasts 
 of harmonious hues, if I may use what may 
 seem at first sight (but only at first sight) 
 a contradiction in terms — the rich red, and 
 the deep green, and the yellow touching 
 upon brown, and the pale blue. Howcharmingy 
 how satisfactory \^as the art of those old painters 
 in reproducing on the canvass the combinations 
 which nature produces every day. And yet 
 Art, following Nature in its infinite variety, has 
 shown us, in the works of Murillo and some 
 other Spanish artists, that perfect harmony of 
 coloring can afford as much pleasure as harmo- 
 nized contrasts, and that in painting also there 
 may be Mozarts as well as Beethovens. 
 
 The evening light fell beautifully upon that 
 young group, as they sat there on the steps of 
 the terrace, and, just glancing round the angle 
 of an old ruined building of Roman date in the 
 gardens below, touched gently and sweetly upon 
 the brow and eyes of Bianca Maria, lighted up
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 53 
 
 the face of Lorenzo, and shone full upon the 
 whole figure of Leonora, as she gazed down upon 
 the speaker. 
 
 " I must go back far into the times past," he 
 said; "I dare say you are well aware that the 
 Viscontis once reigned as lords and dukes of 
 Milan. Do not suppose, Leonora, that I am 
 about to put forth any claim to that rich inheri- 
 tance; for, though nearly allied to the ruling 
 race, my branch of the family were already 
 separated from the parent stem when the impe- 
 rial bull was issued which conferred sovereignty 
 on the branch that ended with Filippo Maria. 
 That bull limited the succession strictly, and we 
 had and have no claim. At the death of Filippo, 
 the Milanese found still one spark of ancient spirit, 
 and they declared themselves a republic. But 
 republics have in them, unhappily, no seeds of 
 durability. There is not strength and virtue 
 enough in man to give them permanence. Eude 
 nations may be strong and resolute enough to 
 maintain such institutions in their youth; but 
 art and luxury soften, and in softening en-
 
 54 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 feeble, so that men learn to love ease more than 
 independence, pleasure better than freedom. A 
 new dynasty was destined soon to succeed the 
 old. The Viscontis were noble, of high race and 
 long descent, connected with every sovereign 
 house of Europe. But the son of a peasant 
 was to gather their inheritance and wear their 
 coronet. 
 
 " There was a man born at Cotignola, in Ro- 
 magna, named Sforza Attendolo, of very humble 
 birth, but prodigious strength of body and extra- 
 ordinary military genius. Famine drove him to 
 seek food in the trade of war. He joined one of 
 the great companies, rose by the force of genius 
 and courage, and in the end became one of the 
 two most famous condottieri in Italy. After a 
 career of almost unexampled glory and success, 
 he was drowned in swimming the Pescara, but 
 his son Francesco succeeded to his command, and 
 to more than his inheritance of military fame. 
 He was, indeed, a great man ; and so powerful did 
 he become, that Filippo Maria Yisconti promised 
 him — to the illegitimate son of a Romagnese pea-
 
 . LEONORA d'oRCO. 55 
 
 sant — the hand of his only daughter to secure 
 his services in his many wars. He hesitated long, 
 it is true, to fuldl a promise which he felt to be 
 degrading, but he was compelled to submit at 
 length. With the aid of Francesco Sforza he 
 was a great prince — without him he was 
 nothing; and when he died, old and blind, 
 he left his people to struggle against the 
 man whom he had aided to raise, but upon 
 whom his own fate had very often depended. 
 Francesco was noble at heart, though ambitious. 
 His enemies he often treated with unexampled 
 generosity, forbearance, and even kindness. He 
 showed that he feared no man, by freeing the 
 most powerful and most skilful of his captive 
 enemies; but he pursued his course steadily to- 
 ward dominion, not altogether unstained by 
 deceit and falsehood, but without cruelty or 
 tyranny. Sore pressed by famine, and with his 
 armies beneath their walls, the Milanese, w^ho 
 recognized his high qualities, though they feared 
 his dominion, threw open their gates to him, and 
 renounced their liberty at the feet oi a new
 
 56 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 duke in February, 1450. The Viscontis had 
 nothing to complain of. The reigning branch 
 was extinct; the rest were not named in the 
 imperial bull, and they, with their fellow- 
 citizens, submitted calmly to the rule of the 
 greatest man then living in Italy. Nor had 
 they cause to regret the act during the life of 
 Francesco Sforza. He ruled the land justly and 
 moderately, maintained his own renown to the 
 last, and showed none of the jealousy of a tyrant 
 towards those whose birth, or fortune, or talents 
 might have made them formidable rivals. He 
 was wise to conciliate affection in support of 
 power. His good reign of sixteen years did 
 more to enslave the Milanese people than the 
 iron heel of any despot could have done; but 
 there were not wanting those among his children 
 to take cruel advantage of that which his virtues 
 had accomplished. He died about thirty years 
 ago, and to him succeeded his eldest son, the 
 monster Galeazzo. From that hour the iron 
 yoke pressed upon the neck of the Milanese. 
 The new duke had less ambition than his father,
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 57 
 
 and inherited none of his talents; but he had a 
 genius for cruelty, and an energy in crime un- 
 equalled even by Eccelino. Those whom he 
 seemed most to favour and who least feared the 
 tyrant's blow, were always those on whom it fell 
 most heavily and most suddenly ; and they fur- 
 nished, when they little expected it, fresh victims 
 for the torture, or for some new and unheard-of 
 kind of death. His luxury and his licentious- 
 ness passed all bounds; no family was safe; no 
 lady's honor was unassailed or uncalumniated; 
 violence was resorted to when corruption did not 
 succeed ; in each day he comprised the crimes of 
 a Tai-quin and the ferocity of a Nero. There 
 were, however, three noble hearts in Milan, and 
 they fancied there were many more. They 
 dreamed that some public spirit still lingered 
 among their countrymen — at least enough, when 
 delivered from actual fear of the tyrant, to seize 
 the opportunity and regain their liberty. When 
 there is no law, men must execute justice as they 
 can; and those three resolved to put Galeazzo to 
 death — a mild punishment for a life of crime. 
 
 D 5
 
 58 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 Their names were Olgiati, Lampngnani, and 
 Carlo Visconti. All had suffered from the 
 tyrant. Olgiati's sister had fallen a victim to 
 his violence. Lampugnani^s wife was another. 
 My mother only escaped by death. But it was 
 not vengeance that moved the patriots. They 
 had only suffered what others had suffered. The 
 evils of the country had become intolerable; they 
 were all the work of one man ; and the three de- 
 termined to deprive him of the power to inflict 
 more. They looked upon their undertaking not 
 only as a great and glorious enterprise, but as a 
 religious duty, and they prepared themselves for 
 its execution with prayer and fasting, and the 
 most solemn sacrament of the Church. Many 
 difficulties intervened. Either the consciousness 
 that his tyranny and crimes had become intoler- 
 able, or one of those strange presentiments of 
 coming fate which have affected many men as 
 the hour of their destiny drew nigh, rendered 
 Galeazzo less accessible, more suspicious and re- 
 tired than before. He seldom came forth from 
 his palace, was no longer seen on occasions of
 
 LEONORA D'OECO. 59 
 
 public ceremony, or in fetes and festivals. There 
 was, indeed, one day when he could hardly fail 
 to show himself, and that was on St. Stephen's 
 day — a day when, by immemorial custom, every 
 one honors the first martyr by attending mass at 
 the great church. That day they fixed upon for 
 the execution of their design, and each was early 
 in the church, with a dagger hidden in the sleeve 
 of his gown. The world has called it a sacri- 
 lege; but they looked upon it as a holy and a 
 righteous deed, sanctified by the justice of the 
 cause, that the most sacred place could not be 
 polluted by it. 
 
 '' In the mean time Galeazzo seemed to feel 
 that the day and hour of retribution had arrived. 
 He would fain have avoided it; he sought to have 
 mass performed in the palace; he applied to a 
 chaplain — to the Bishop of Como — but in all 
 instances slight obstacles presented themselves, 
 and in the end he determined to go to the Cathe- 
 dral. One touch of human tenderness and feel- 
 ing, the first for many a day, broke from him. 
 He sent for his two children, took leave of them
 
 60 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 tenderly, and embraced them again and again. 
 He then went forth ; but the conspirators awaited 
 him in the church; and hardly had he entered 
 when three daggers were plunged into his breast 
 and back. Each struck a second blow; and the 
 monster who had inflicted torture, and death ^ 
 and disgrace upon so many innocent fellow- 
 creatures sank to the pavement, exclaiming, 
 ' Sancta Maria !' 
 
 " The three then rushed towards the street to 
 call the people to arms; but Lampugnani stum- 
 bled, catching his feet in the long trains of the 
 women who were already kneeling in the nave. 
 As he fell he was killed by a Moor, one of Gale- 
 azzo's base retainers. My father was killed 
 where he stood, and Olgiato escaped into the 
 street only to find the people on whom he trusted 
 either dead to all sense of patriotism and justice, 
 or stupified and surprised. Not a sword was 
 drawn — not a hand was raised in answer to his 
 cry, ' To arms !' and torture and the death of a 
 criminal once more closed the career of a 
 patriot.
 
 61 
 
 " I was an infant at the time, but in the days 
 of Galeazzo Sforza infants were not spared, and 
 the nurse who had me in her arms hurried forth, 
 carrying me with her, ere the gates of the city 
 could be closed, or the followers of the duke 
 came to search and pillage our house. She 
 took refuge in a neighbouring village, whence 
 we were not long after carried to Florence, where 
 the noble Lorenzo de Medici, after whom T had 
 been baptized, received me as his child, and 
 when he felt death approaching, sent me to the 
 court of France to finish my education among 
 my relatives there." 
 
 " And was this Prince Ludovic the son of 
 Galeazzo?" asked Leonora, as soon as he had 
 paused. 
 
 " Oh no — his younger brother," replied 
 Lorenzo. " He holds the son in durance, and 
 the son's wife, on the pretence of guardianship, 
 though both are of full age: but, if I be not 
 mistaken, the day of their deliverance is near at 
 hand, for I have heard the king say he will cer- 
 tainly see them, and learn whether they are not
 
 62 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 fitted to rule their own duchy without the inter- 
 ference of so dangerous a relation." 
 
 " God grant the king may be in time," said 
 Bianca Maria; "for it is said the young duke 
 is very sick, and people say he has poison in all 
 he eats." 
 
 " Hush ! hush !" cried Leonora, anxiously. 
 " Long confinement and wearing care are enough 
 to make him sick, Bianca, without a grain of 
 poison. No one can die now-a-days without 
 people saying he is poisoned. ^Tis a sad tale, 
 indeed, you tell, Lorenzo, and I have often heard 
 our sweet Princess of Ferrara say that Galeazzo 
 was a bad man ; but Ludovic surely is not cruel. 
 He has pardoned many a man, I have heard, 
 who had been condemned by the tribunals." 
 
 A somewhat bitter smile came upon the lips of 
 Lorenzo Yisconti, but he merely replied, " The 
 good and innocent always think others good and 
 innocent till bitter experience teaches them the 
 contrary." 
 
 Perhaps he might have added more, but the 
 sound of footsteps on the terrace above caught
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 63 
 
 his ear, and he and Leonora at once turned to 
 see who approached. The steps were slow and 
 deliberate, and were not directed toward the 
 spot where the young people sat; but they in- 
 stantly checked further conversation on the sub- 
 jects previously discussed, while from time to 
 time each of the three gave a glance toAvard two 
 gentlemen who had just appeared upon the ter- 
 race. The one was a man somewhat advanced 
 in years, though not exactly what might be called 
 an old man. His hair and beard were very 
 gray, it is true, but his frame was not bent, and 
 his step was still firm and stately. He was 
 richly dressed, and wore a large, heavy sword, 
 of a somewhat antique fashion. Lorenzo asked 
 no questions concerning him, for he knew him 
 already as the grandfather of his young cousin, 
 Bianca Maria. The other was a younger man, 
 dressed in black velvet, except where the arms 
 were seen from under the long hanging sleeves 
 of his upper garment, showing part of an under 
 coat of cloth of silver. He was tall and thin, 
 and his face would have deserved the name of
 
 64 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 handsome had it not been that the eyes, which 
 were fine in themselves, and overshadowed by 
 strongly-marked eyebrows, were too close together, 
 and had a slight obliquity inward. It was not 
 what could be absolutely called a squint, but it 
 gave a sinister expression to his countenance, 
 which was not relieved by a habit of keeping his 
 teeth and lips closely compressed, as if holding 
 a rigid guard over what the tongue might be 
 inclined to utter. 
 
 They took their way to the extreme end 
 of the terrace, and then walked back till they 
 came on a line with the spot where the three 
 young people sat, still silent, for there is a 
 freemasonry in youth that loves not to have even 
 its most trifling secrets laid bare to other eyes, 
 or its most innocent councils broken in 
 upon. 
 
 There the two gentlemen paused, and the 
 younger seemed to end some conversation which 
 had been passing between them by saying, " I 
 know not much, Signor Rovera, of the history 
 or views of other times, or for what men lived
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 65 
 
 and strove for in those days; but I do know, and 
 pretty well, the history of my own times, and 
 the rules by which we have to guide ourselves in 
 them. If we have not ourselves power, we must 
 serve those who have power ; and while we keep 
 ourselves from what you would call an evil will 
 on our own part, we must not be over nice in 
 executing the will of those above us. Theirs is 
 the deed, and theirs the responsibility. The 
 race of Sforza is not, methinks, a higher or 
 a better race than the race of Borgia. Both are 
 peasants compared to you or me, but the Borgias 
 are rising, and destined to rise high above us 
 both; the Sforzas have risen, and are about to 
 fall, or I mistake the signs of the times. Men 
 may play with a kitten more safely than with a 
 lion; and when Ludovico called this King 
 of France into Italy, he put his head in the wild 
 beast's mouth." 
 
 " Ah, that that were all !" exclaimed the old 
 Count of RoVera. " I should little care to see 
 that wild beast close his heavy jaws upon the
 
 66 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 skull of his inviter, if that would satisfy him ; 
 but Italy — what is to become of Italy?" 
 
 '* God knows," answered the other drily. 
 " She has taken so little care of her children, 
 that, good faith ! they must take care of themi- 
 selves, and let her do the same, my noble cousin. 
 We are both too old to lose much by her fall, and 
 neither of us young enough to hope to see her 
 rise. Phoenixes are rare in these days, Signor 
 Count. There," he continued, pointing to the 
 little group upon the steps, " there are the only 
 things that are likely to spring up, except corn, 
 and mulberry- trees, and such vegetables. Why, 
 how the girl has grown already ! She is well- 
 nigh a woman. She will need a husband soon, 
 and then baby-clothes, and so forth. I must speak 
 with her. Leonora! Leonora!" 
 
 At the sound of his voice, Leonora, who had 
 been sitting with her head bent down and her 
 eyes fixed upon the marble at her feet, sprang 
 up like a startled deer, and ran up the steps 
 toward him; but when within a step, she 
 paused, and bent before him without speaking.
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 67 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 "Who is that man?" asked Lorenzo Visconti in 
 a low tone, while Leonora stood before the 
 stranger, silent, and, as it were, subdued. 
 
 " That is her father, Ramiro d'Orco," an- 
 swered Bianca Maria; "he has just returned 
 from Romagna, I suppose ; he has not been here 
 for a year, and I heard he was there." 
 
 "Her father!" exclaimed the youth; " and is 
 it so a child meets a father? Oh God! had I a 
 parent living who came back from a long 
 absence, how I should spring to receive his first 
 caress ! how the first tone of his voice — the first 
 sound of his footstep, would move the whole 
 blood within me. I do believe the very proxi-
 
 68 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 mitv of his spirit would make my whole frame 
 thrill, and I should know that he was present 
 before one of mj senses assured me of the fact. 
 My father! oh, my father! could you rejoin your 
 son, should I meet you as a stranger, or bow 
 before you as a ruler ?" 
 
 *' It is not her fault, Lorenzo," said her cousin, 
 eagerly, zealous in her friend's cause ; " I do not 
 know how to tell you what he is, Lorenzo. He 
 is hard, jet not tyrannical; cold, yet not with- 
 out affection. There is no tenderness in him, 
 yet he loves her better than aught else on earth, 
 except, I have heard my grandfather say, except 
 ambition. He is liberal to her, allowing her all 
 she wants or wishes, except, indeed, his tender- 
 ness and care. You and I are both orphans, Lo- 
 renzo, and perhaps we let our fancy lead us to 
 picture exaggerated joy in the love and affection 
 of parents." 
 
 "Hove him not, Bianca," answered the young 
 man, with a slight shu(Mer ; " there is something 
 in his look which seems to chill the blood in one's 
 heart. I can see in that gaze which he bends
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 69 
 
 upon her, why it is her arms are not thrown 
 round his neck, why her lips are not pressed to 
 his, why words of love and affection are not 
 poured forth upon her father when she meets 
 him after a long absence. She is his child, 
 but he is not a father to her — perhaps a 
 tyrant.'* 
 
 "Oh, no, no!'* answered the young girl; ''he 
 loves her — indeed he does; and he does not 
 tyrannize over her. But whether it is that there 
 is a natural coldness in his manner, or that he 
 affects a certain Eoman hardness, I cannot tell; 
 he only shows his love in indulging her in every 
 thing she desires, without a tender look or tender 
 word, such as most fond fathers bestow upon a 
 well-loved child." 
 
 " And such a child !" said Lorenzo, musing. 
 " Well, it is strange, Bianca ; perhaps he may love 
 her truly, and more than many fathers whom I 
 have seen in France fondle their children as if 
 their whole soul was wrapped up in them, and 
 then sacrifice their happiness to the merest caprice 
 ' — perhaps it may be so, and yet I do not like his
 
 70 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 looks. I cannot like him. See how he gazes 
 at us now ! It is the gaze of a serpent, cold, and 
 hard, and stony. Who was her motlier? She 
 can have gained no part of her nature from 
 him." 
 
 "Oh, no," cried the young girl, feeling all that 
 he felt, though unwilling to allow it; ''she is like 
 him in nothing, except, indeed, the forehead and 
 the shape of her face. Her mother was almost 
 as beautiful as she is. I remember well ; it is not 
 three years since she died. She was a great 
 heiress in the Ghiaradadda, All she had was 
 on her marriage secured by the forms of law 
 to herself and her children, and they say he strove 
 almost cruelly to make her give it up to him. 
 After her death he obtained possession of it, but 
 not entirely for himself. It was decided that he 
 should possess it till Leonora married, making 
 suitable provision for her maintenance, but that, 
 when she married, the great estates at Castellano 
 should go to her and her husband. My grand- 
 father, who was her mother's uncle, took much 
 interest in the matter, and for a time he and
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 7i 
 
 Signer d'Orco were at bitter enmity ; but when 
 the case was decided, and it was found that 
 Leonora's father assigned her more for her por- 
 tion than the hiw would have demanded, my 
 grandfather became convinced that he had striven 
 only for what he conceived a right, and became 
 reconciled to him. Indeed, he is qu'te liberal in 
 all things concerning her ; allows her the revenue 
 of a princess, and is himself a man of small 
 expense; but it seems his is an unbending 
 nature. He lets her do what she wills in most 
 things — seldom thwarts her ; but when he speaks 
 his own will, there is no appeal from it — neither 
 to his heart nor his mind. 1 can often persuade 
 my grandfather, though he is quick and hasty, 
 as you know, and sometimes convince him, but 
 it is of no use to try to do either with Eamiro 
 d'Orco." 
 
 Lorenzo fancied he comprehended, at least in 
 a degree, the character which, in her youthful 
 way, she strove to depict; but yet there was 
 something in the look of Leonora's father which 
 left a dark, unpleasant impression upon his
 
 72 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 mind. There are faces that we love not, but 
 which afford no apparent reason for the 
 antipathy they produce. There is often even 
 beauty which we cannot admire — grace which 
 affords no pleasure. There is, perhaps, nothing 
 more graceful upon earth than the gliding of a 
 snake, never for a moment quitting what the 
 great moral painter called '^ the line of beauty.'* 
 There is nothing more rich and resplendent than 
 his jewelled skin, and yet how few men can gaze 
 upon the most gorgeous of that reptile race 
 without a shuddering sensation of its enmity to 
 man? Can it be that in the breast of the 
 reasoning human creature, God, for a farther 
 security than mere intellect against a being that 
 is likely to injure, implants an instinct of 
 approaching danger which no fairness of form, 
 no engagingness of manner can at first 
 compensate? It may be so. At all events, I 
 have seen instances were something very like it 
 was apparent. And yet, with time, the im- 
 pression wears away ; the spirit has spoken once 
 its word of warning; if that word is not enough,
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 73 
 
 it never speaks again. The snake has the 
 power of fascinating the bird which, in the 
 beginning, strove to escape from him; and we 
 forget the monitor which told us our danger. 
 
 In an hour from that time Lorenzo was sitting 
 at the same table with Ramiro d'Orco, listening 
 well pleased to searching and deep views of the 
 state of Italy, expressed, not indeed with elo- 
 quence, for he was not an eloquent man, but 
 with a force and point he had seldom heard 
 equalled. 
 
 It would not be easy to give his words, for, 
 even were they recorded, they would lose their 
 strength in the translation; but the substance 
 we know, and it would give a very different pic- 
 ture of Italy in that day from any that can be 
 drav/n at present. We see it not alone dimmed 
 by the distance of time, but in a haze of our own 
 prejudices. We may gather, perhaps, the great 
 results; but we can, I believe, in no degree divine 
 the motives, and most of the details are lost. 
 Read the history of any one single man in those 
 days, as pour tray ed by modern writers, andcom- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 pare one author with another. Take for instance 
 that of Lorenzo de Medici, as carefully drawn by 
 Roscoe, or brightly sketched by Sismondi. What 
 can be more different? The facts, indeed, are 
 the same, but how opposite are all the inferences. 
 In both we have the dry bones of the man, but 
 the form of the muscle, and the hue of the com- 
 plexion are entirely at variance. Writers who 
 undertake to represent the things of a past age 
 are like a painter required to furnish portraits of 
 persons long dead. Tradition may give them 
 some guidance as to the general outline, but the 
 features and the colouring will be their own. 
 
 It is therefore with the great facts of the state 
 of Italy at that time that I will deal, as nearly 
 in the view of Ramiro d'Orco as I can ; but it 
 must be remembered that his view also was not 
 without its mistiness. If we cannot see clearly 
 on account of the remoteness of the objects which 
 we contemplate, his vision also was indistinct, 
 obscured by the prejudices of class, interest, 
 party, hope, apprehension, and, above all, ambi- 
 tion. He painted the condition of Italy only as
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 75 
 
 Ramlro d'Orco believed it to be. How much 
 even of that belief was to be ascribed to his own 
 desires aud objects, who can say? 
 
 Lombardy, the great northern portion of Italy, 
 indeed, had ever been isolated from the rest in 
 manners and habits of thought. Italians the 
 Lombards certainly were ; but the characteristics 
 of the Northern conquerors predominated in 
 that portion of the peninsula. Except at Gonoa 
 and in Venice, republicanism in no shape had 
 taken any deep root. From very early times, 
 although the voice of the people had occasionally 
 proclaimed a republic here and there, the babe was 
 strangled ere it got strength, even by those that 
 gave it birth. The epoch of democratic inde- 
 pendence in Lombardy lasted barely a century 
 and a half. No republic flourished long north 
 of the River Po, except those I have named, and 
 even the two which took some glory from the 
 name little deserved it. Less real liberty was 
 known in Venice than perhaps existed under the 
 most grinding tyranny of a single man; and 
 Genoa, in her most palmy days, was a prey to 
 
 E 2
 
 76 LEONORA D^ORCO. 
 
 aristocratic factions, which soon made the people 
 but slaves to princes. But it must not be sup- 
 posed that nothing was obtained in return : a 
 more chivalrous and warlike spirit existed in 
 that division of Italy than in the central portion. 
 It was not so early refined, but it was not so 
 speedily softened. Corrupt it might be, and 
 indeed was, to even a fearful degree; but it was 
 the corruption of the hard and the daring, rather 
 than of the weak and effeminate. Men poisoned, 
 and slew, and tortured each other, and the minds 
 of all became so familiar with blood and horror 
 that much was endured before resistance to op- 
 pression was excited ; but conspiracies were 
 generally successful in their primary object, be- 
 cause the conspirators were bold and resolute. 
 A tyrant might fall only to give place to another 
 tyrant, but still he fell ; and you rarely saw in 
 Lombardy such weakness as was displayed in 
 the enterprise of the Pazzi. 
 
 Men in the North fought openly in the field 
 for counties, and marquisates, and dukedoms; 
 but there was little finesse or diplomatic skill
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 77 
 
 displayed except by Venice. There was cun- 
 ning, indeed, but it was always exercised to gain 
 some military advantage. The ambition of 
 that part of the land was warlike, not peace- 
 ful. It was not luxury, and ease, and grace- 
 ful enjoyment that was desired in combina- 
 tion with power, but it was splendour, and pomp, 
 and domination. Weak tyrants were sure to 
 fall; merely cruel ones generally retained their 
 power; and cunning ones were frequently suc- 
 cessful ; but it was only by wielding the sword, 
 either by their own hands or those of others. 
 
 At the time in which E-amiro D'Orco spoke, 
 every vestige of liberty was extinct in Lombardy. 
 The Visconti, and after them the Sforzi, in 
 Milan; the house of Delia Scala, and after them 
 the Visconti, in Verona; the Gonzagas in Man- 
 tua; the D'Estes in Ferrara; the Carraras in 
 Padua; the Bentivogli in Bologna, and a hundred 
 other princely houses, had attained power by 
 both policy and the sword, and Genoa had passed 
 frequently from anarchy to subjection, and sub-
 
 78 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 jection to anarchy. But the great military 
 school of Alberic de Barbiano had raised up a 
 vigorous and healthy spirit in the people, which, 
 had it lasted, would have secured to both 
 Romagna and Lorabardy strength to resist 
 foreign enemies, even if it could not control in- 
 testine divisions. But the great company of St. 
 George, founded by Barbiano, was succeeded by 
 two others, who, though they possessed all the 
 energy of their predecessors, and were led by 
 men of very superior abilities, were merely the 
 companies of adventurous soldiers known as the 
 Bracceschi and Sforzeschi. Their swords were 
 at the command of those who could pay them 
 best, and their leaders were men who sought to 
 found dynasties upon military success. In this 
 object Braccio de Montana f\iiled. He was mor- 
 tally wounded at Aquila in 1424, and his for- 
 midable band gradually dispersed, after having 
 passed under the command of several others. 
 Though Sforza perished in passing the Pescara 
 ere he attained the power at which he aimed,
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 79 
 
 the object was accomplished by his son Francesco, 
 who established himself in the ducal throne of 
 Milan. 
 
 Thus, at the time when Ramiro d'Orco spoke, 
 in 1494, the whole of Lombardy was under the 
 domination of various princes, commonly and not 
 unjustly called tyrants; but the chivalrous spirit 
 of the people was by no means extinct ; and even 
 the course of the arts showed the tendency of the 
 popular mind. It is true, Milan itself was more 
 famous for the manufacture and even the inven- 
 tion of arms than for the fine arts, but in the 
 pictures of that country during this and the pre- 
 ceding centuries, saints and martyrs, angels and 
 demons are frequently represented in knightly- 
 harness, and in some it would be difficult to dis- 
 tinguish the messenger of peace from one of the 
 terrible legionaries of the great companies. 
 
 It seemed, indeed, as if Lombardy had returned 
 to its normal feudal notions, in which chivalry 
 was inseparably attached to monarchy and aris- 
 tocracy. 
 
 The central states of Italy clung to republi-
 
 80 LEONORA d'oRCO. 
 
 can forms of government long after they had 
 been extinguished in the north ; but it was re- 
 publicanism founded upon wealth, not upon 
 purity of character or simplicity of manners — no, 
 nor upon real patriotism. A celebrated writer 
 of late days has spoken of " the virtue of Flo- 
 rence ^^ in this very century. Let us see how 
 that virtue was depicted by the best judges of 
 the times of which he, at this late day, speaks. 
 " I never imagined," said Piero de Medici, father 
 of Lorenzo, on his death-bed, addressing the 
 chief citizens of Florence, " that times would 
 come when the conduct of my friends would force 
 me to esteem and long for the society of my ene- 
 mies, and wish that I had been defeated instead of 
 victorious." He then went on to reproach them 
 with their vices and their crimes. "You rob 
 your neighbours of their wealth,'* he said, " you 
 sell justice, you evade the law, you oppress the 
 weak, and exalt the insolent. There are not, 
 throughout all Italy, so many and such dreadful 
 examples of violence and avarice as in this city." 
 Again Machiavelli describes the youth of Flo-
 
 LORENZO d'ORCO. 81 
 
 rence as having become " more dissolute than 
 ever, more extravagant in dress, feasting and 
 other licentiousness," and says that, " being 
 without employment they wasted their time and 
 means on gaming and women, their principal 
 care being how to appear splendid in apparel, 
 and obtain a crafty shrewdness in discourse." 
 Nor can I look upon the persevering efforts of 
 that republic to subjugate all the neighbouring 
 cities as a proof of virtue or of love of liberty. 
 Their military virtues seem to have been upon 
 a par with their domestic qualities. Their battles 
 were fought by hired mercenaries, and where the 
 Florentine forces did appear in the field, they 
 apparently merited the reproach which Machia- 
 velli casts upon the military in general of the 
 central and southern portions of Italy. In de- 
 scribing the campaign of 1467, he says, '' A few 
 slight skirmishes took place, but, in accordance 
 with the custom of the time, neither of them 
 acted on the offensive, besieged any town, or 
 gave the other any opportunity of coming to a 
 general battle; but each kept within its tents, 
 
 £ 5
 
 82 LEONORA d'ORCO, 
 
 and they conducted themselves with the most re- 
 markable pusillanimity." Indeed, his descrip- 
 tion of all the battles in which none of the great 
 condottieri were engaged, is merely ludicrous. 
 Moreover, the political virtues of the people 
 seem, at this time at least, not to have surpassed 
 those of the heart and mind. Florence had the 
 name of a republic, but its government was in 
 reality an oligarchy. There is a consciousness 
 in man that persons whose time is devoted to 
 daily labour have not those opportunities of men* 
 tal culture and that leisure for deep thought 
 which alone can fit men for the task of leading 
 and governing. However strong may be demo- 
 cratic sentiment, however jealously tenacious of 
 the name of equality citizens may be, there is, 
 in the natural course of all communities, a ten- 
 dency to produce an aristocracy. In the war- 
 ring elements of a political chaos, the first efforts 
 of order are to resolve the people into classes — - 
 nay, into castes. The hatred of hereditary au- 
 thority generally directs these efforts to elevate 
 riches to the highest place. The wealthy, in
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 83 
 
 whom one sort of pre-eminence is already ob- 
 vious, are not so obnoxious at first sight as those 
 who have no real source of influence but the in- 
 tangible one of birth ; and thus from republics, 
 founded frequently upon purely democratic prin- 
 ciples, generally rises the most hateful and de- 
 basing of all aristocracies, the aristocracy of 
 wealth. This had long been the case with 
 Florence at the time I speak of: wealth was 
 nobility, and that nobility was rapidly tending 
 toward monarchy. Lorenzo de Medici had 
 exercised until his death, in April, 1492, an 
 anomalous sovereignty, denied the character of 
 prince of a monarchical state, and yet divested 
 of the restraints of a magistrate of a free 
 people. He was addressed by all public bodies, 
 and all private persons as " Most Magnificent 
 Lord," and swayed the destinies of the country, 
 influenced the character of the people, and deeply 
 affected the fate of all Italy, without any legal 
 right or actual station. His was solely a 
 monarchy of influence, and, though even Crom-
 
 84 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 well felt the necessity of giving to his power 
 the sanction of a name, Lorenzo ruled his coun- 
 trymen till his death in the character of a 
 citizen. 
 
 The south of Italy had in the mean time 
 passed through several phases, and the monar- 
 chical element had long predominated in its 
 government. The only question was to whom 
 it should belong. Foreign families struggled 
 for the often contested throne; and Italians 
 then only drew their swords or raised their 
 voices in favor of one or another usurper. 
 The destinies of the north and the south 
 were sealed; and in Tuscany no wide field 
 was offered for ambition. A man might 
 raise himself to a certain degree by subser- 
 vience to some powerful prince, but he must 
 continue to serve that prince, or he fell,' and 
 would never aspire to independent domination 
 where hereditary power was recognized by the 
 people, and lay at the foundation of all acknow- 
 ledged authority. It was alone in central Italy^
 
 85 
 
 and especially in Romagna and in the States of 
 the Church- -where a principle antagonistic to 
 all hereditary claims existed in the very nature 
 of the Papal power —that any adventurer could 
 hope^ either by his individual genius or courage, 
 or by services rendered to those who already 
 held authority, to raise himself to independent 
 rule, or to that station which was only attached 
 to a superior by the thin and nearly worn-out 
 thread of feudal tenure. 
 
 " Those who would find fortune," said Ramiro 
 d'Orco, ^' such fortune as Francesco Sforza con- 
 quered and the Medici attained, must seek it at 
 Rome. There is the field, the only field still 
 open to the bold spirit, the strong, unwavering 
 heart, the keen and clear-seeing mind — there is 
 the table on which the boldest player is sure to 
 win the most. With every change of the 
 papacy, new combinations, and, consequently, 
 new opportunities must arise, and, thanks to 
 the wise policy of the college of cardinals, 
 those changes must be frequent. A man there
 
 SQ LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 may, as elsewhere, be required to serve in order 
 at length to command ; but if he do not obtain 
 power at length, it is his fault or Fortune's, and 
 in either case he must abide the consequences. 
 Good night, Signor Rovera."
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 87 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "What is it, dear girl?— Let me think!'' said 
 Leonora to her young cousin. They sat in a 
 small ante-room between their sleeping chambers, 
 which gave entrance from the corridor to 
 each. 
 
 "And what would you think of, Leonora?" 
 asked Bianca, laughing wickedly. 
 
 Leonora gazed from the window, whence was 
 seen the garden below bathed in moonlight, with 
 faint glimpses of the distant country, and the 
 sparkle of the rays upon the fountain whose 
 voice came murmuring up. She did not answer, 
 but continued silent, with her cheek resting
 
 88 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 on her hand, ani her arm upon the sill of the 
 window. 
 
 " I know right well whom you are thinking of/* 
 said Bianca, bending down her head so as to gaze 
 upon the beautiful face. 
 
 "Not you,*' said Leonora; "I am thinking of 
 my father; and how strange it is that he who 
 loves me well, I know, should show his love so 
 little.^ 
 
 *' Can you think of two things at once, 
 Leonora?" asked her cousin, "for I know one 
 thing you are thinking of, and you tell me of 
 another. You are thinking of Lorenzo Yisconti; 
 and how strange it is that you, who love him 
 well, have not the heart to own it to yourself.'* 
 
 " Go, go, you are a silly child," answered 
 Leonora, " you cannot know what love is, nor I 
 either, except love for your parents or your 
 kinsfolk. I think not of Lorenzo Yisconti ; he 
 is a comely youth, and pleasant in his con- 
 versation ; but he will go hence in a day, forget 
 me in another, and I him before the third evening 
 comes. You want to make me fall in love with
 
 LEONORA D^ORCO. 89 
 
 him, but I tell jou, Blanche, you will tire me of 
 him." 
 
 " Faith, I do not want you to love him,*' 
 replied Bianea, " for I am half in love with him 
 myself, and can't spare him — only, you know, 
 there is an obstacle.*' 
 
 " Well, well, go and sleep over it," replied 
 Leonora, " then rise to-morrow, and whisper 
 gently in his ear that, if he will but wait a year 
 or two — this loving land and warm climate not- 
 withstanding — he can wed the beautiful heiress 
 of the house of Rovera, and — But what obstacle 
 do you talk of, Blanche?" 
 
 " The Church ! the Church !" replied the other 
 girl; "we are full cousins, you know, Leonora 
 — within the forbidden degrees. My mother's 
 eldest sister was his mother." 
 
 "But a poor obstacle," answered Leonora; 
 " one of the two bags of the Church is always 
 open to take in gold, and the other to let out 
 dispensations." 
 
 "Yes: but somehow I can never look on him 
 as aught else but a cousin," replied Bianea — " a
 
 90 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 sort of brother. As such I love him well ; but as 
 I said, I am only half in love with him — a 
 fraternal love, which is a half love, I suppose. I 
 do not know much about it; but I do not 
 judpje I could let him kiss me so coolly if I 
 loved him any better. Bless my poor heart, 
 Leonora, we were boy and girl together when we 
 were in Florence, and were we to marry, I should 
 always think him playfellow instead of husband. 
 But I'll to bed and sleep ; I have nothing to keep 
 me awake. You go to bed and sleep, if you can. 
 I know you, Leonora. *' 
 
 " No, you do not," murmured her cousin; ^'but 
 I shall sit up and look at the moonlight for a 
 time." 
 
 " And wish that the nightingale had not ceased 
 to sing true-love ditties," replied Bianca gaily. 
 ^^ Well, good night. Leave the doors open, that 
 I may hear if you sigh about Lorenzo in your 
 sleep." 
 
 Bianca, or, as the French called her, Blanche 
 Marie, then left her gaily, and with a light heart 
 was soon asleep. Leonora d'Orco sat quite still
 
 LEONORA D^ORCO. 91 
 
 by the window, and gazed forth. All was still 
 and tranquil. The air was clear and soft, and yet 
 there seemed a sort of haze — a haze of brightness 
 over the landscape. Have you never remarked, 
 reader, especially in southern climates, that the 
 moon sometimes pours forth her pale rays in such 
 profusion that it seems as if a mist of light 
 spread over the scene ? So was it at that moment; 
 and though the nightingale, as Blanche Marie 
 had said, no longer trilled his summer song, yet 
 every now and then a note or two from his sweet 
 voice burst upon the ear — a song, begun as if in 
 memory, and broken off as if in despair. The 
 time of love was past, and he could sing no more; 
 but the remembrance of happy days woke up 
 under the warm autumn splendour, and a few 
 short plaintive notes came welling from the 
 fountains of regret. 
 
 Of what was the young maiden thinking? 
 What feelings woke up in her bosom under that 
 bright moon ? 
 
 What harmonious chord vibrated in her bosom
 
 92 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 to the brolen tones of the solitary songster of 
 the night? 
 
 Gaze down into a deep, deep well, reader, and 
 if you gaze long enough, you will catch an un- 
 certain gleam of light, you know not whence, glis- 
 ening upon the surface of waters below you ; but 
 you cannot fathom those waters with the eye, 
 nor see aught that they cover; and so it is with 
 the heart of woman to those who would scan it 
 from a distance. If you would know what is 
 beneath, plunge down into its depths, torch in 
 h and : you may perish, but you will know all 
 that can be known of that most deep, mysterious 
 thing. 
 
 At length there was the sound of a light foot- 
 step on the terrace beneath, and Leonora started 
 and listened. The foot that produced the sound 
 was still distant, and she quietly glided through 
 the open door into her cousin's chamber. Blanche 
 Marie was already sleeping peacefully, the light 
 covering hardly veiling the contour of the young 
 beautiful limbs, the hair already escaped from
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 93 
 
 the net intended to restrain it, and the white 
 uncovered arm cast negligently under the warm, 
 rosy cheek. Her breathing was soft, and low, 
 and even, and the half-open lips showed the 
 pearly teeth between. 
 
 "How beautiful she is!'^ murmured Leonora; 
 "and how sweet and gentle she looks! So 
 looked Psyche;'^ and with a noiseless step she 
 leit the room, and closed the door behind 
 her. 
 
 She took her seat near the window again, 
 behind the rich deep moulding, as if she would 
 see without being seen; but the lighted taper on 
 the table cast her shadow across without her 
 knowing it; and there she sat, and once more 
 listened. The step was very, very near now, 
 and the next instant it stopped beneath the win- 
 dow. Then came a silent pause for a moment, 
 and Leonora's heart beat. 
 
 " Bianca," said the voice of Lorenzo, " is that 
 you, dear cousin?'* 
 
 Leonora was strongly tempted to say yes, but 
 yet she felt ashamed of the positive falsehood,
 
 94 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 and, with a sort of compromise with conscience, 
 she answered, almost in a whisper : 
 
 " Hush ! speak low." 
 
 "Which is Leonora's chamber?" asked the 
 voice again. 
 
 " Why ?" demanded the young girl, in the same 
 low tone, but with strange sensations in her 
 bosom. 
 
 " I wish to sing to her," answered the youth, 
 " and to tell her all I dared not tell this evening. 
 I am ordered to Pavia early to-morrow, dear 
 cousin, and must leave you to plead my cause, 
 but I would fain say one word for myself first." 
 
 Oh, how Leonora's heart beat. 
 
 " Then it is not Bianca," she murmured to 
 herself; "it is not Bianca. The next room on 
 your right," she answered, still speakiug low; 
 but suddenly there came upon her a feeling of 
 shame for the deception, and she added, " What 
 is it you would say, Lorenzo? Leonora is here; 
 Bianca has been sleeping for an hour. But don't 
 sing, and speak low. Signer Eovera's apart- 
 ments are close by."
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 95 
 
 But Lorenzo would not heed the warning; 
 and though he did not raise his voice to its full 
 power, he sang, in a sweet, low tone, a little can- 
 zone tta, which had much currency some few years 
 before in Florence : 
 
 What time the Greek, in days of yore, 
 Bent down his own fair work before, 
 He woke the echoes of the grove 
 With words like these, ' Oh, could she love!' 
 
 Heaven heard the sculptor's wild desire; 
 Lo\e warmed the statue with its fire; 
 But when he saw the marble move. 
 He asked, still fearful, ' Will she love?" 
 
 She loved — she loved; and wilt thou be 
 More cold, Madonna imto me? 
 Then hear my son/, and let me prove 
 If you can love — if you can love." 
 
 " Songs are false — men are falser, Lorenzo," 
 answered Leonora, bending a little from the 
 window : " you will sing that canzonetta to the 
 next pretty eye you see." 
 
 " It will be Leonora's then," answered the 
 youth. '' Can you not come down, dear Leonora, 
 and let me hear my fate under the olive trees? 
 I fear to tell you all I feel in this place, lest other
 
 96 LEONORA d'oRCO. 
 
 ears should be listening. Oh ! come down, for 
 I must go hence by daybreak to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh ! do not go so soon," murmured Leonora; 
 " I will be down and on the terrace by daybreak; 
 but to-night — no, no, Lorenzo, I cannot, for very 
 maiden shame, come down to-night. There, 
 take my glove, Lorenzo, and if I find you still 
 wear it for my sake when next we meet, I shall 
 know — and then, perhaps — perhaps I will tell 
 you more. But there is some one coming — fly ! 
 fly! — the other way. He is coming from the 
 east end of 'he terrace." 
 
 " I never turned my back on friend or foe," 
 answered Lorenzo, turning to confront the new- 
 comer. 
 
 Leonora drew back from the window and put 
 out the light, but she listened with eager ears. 
 " It was very like my father*s figure," she 
 thought; "his height, his walk, but yet, me- 
 thinks, stouter. Hark ! that is not his voice — • 
 one of the servants, perhaps." 
 
 The next instant there was a clash of steel, 
 and she ran anxiously to the window. At some
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 97 
 
 twenty yards distance slie saw Lorenzo, sword 
 in hand, defending himself against a man appa- 
 rently much more powerful than himself. For 
 a moment or two she gazed, bewildered, and not 
 knowing what to do. Lorenzo at first seemed 
 to stand entirely on the defensive; but soon his 
 blood grew hot, and, in answer to his adversary's 
 lunge, he lunged again; but the other held a 
 dagger in his left hand, and with it easily parried 
 the blade. The next pass she saw her lover 
 stagger. She could bear no more, and, running 
 down, she screamed aloud to wake the servants, 
 who slept near the hall. An old man, a porter, 
 was still dozing in a chair, and started up, ex- 
 claiming : 
 
 "What is it? what is it, signorina?" 
 
 "Haste! haste! Bring your halbert !" cried 
 Leonora, pulling back slowly the great heavy 
 door, and running down the steps, "there is 
 murder about." 
 
 She fancied she should behold Lorenzo already 
 fallen before his more vigorous enemy; but, on 
 the contrary, he was now pressing him hard 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 with an agility and vigour which outweighed 
 the strength of maturity on the part of the other. 
 All was as clear in the bright moonlight as if 
 the sun had been shining; and, as Leonora 
 sprung forward, she beheld, or thought she be- 
 held, her lover's assailant gain some advantage. 
 Lorenzo was pressed back along the terrace to- 
 wards the spot where she stood. He seemed to 
 fly, though still with his face to his adversary, 
 but he had been well disciplined to arms in Italy 
 as well as France, and knew every art of defence 
 or assault. The space between him and his foe 
 increased till he nearly reached the young girl's 
 side, and then, with a sudden bound, like that 
 of a lion, he sprang upon his enemy and passed 
 his guard. What followed Leonora could not 
 see ; it was all the work of a moment ; but the 
 next instant she beheld the elder man raise 
 his hand as if to strike with his dagger, drop 
 it again, and fall back heavily upon the ter- 
 race. 
 
 Lorenzo leaned upon his sword, and seemed 
 seeking to recover breath, while Leonora ran up
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 99 
 
 to him, asking, '^ Are you hurt? are you hurt, 
 Lorenzo?" 
 
 Ere he could answer there were many people 
 around them. No house in Italy was unaccus- 
 tomed to such scenes in those days. Indeed, 
 scenes much more terrible habituated every 
 body, servants, masters, retinue, to wake at the 
 first call, and to have every thing ready for re- 
 sistance and defence. A number of the at- 
 tendants poured forth from the door she had left 
 open, some with useless torches lighted, some 
 with arms in their hands. Then came her 
 father, Eamiro d'Orco, and last, the old Count 
 Rovera himself, while Blanche Marie appeared 
 at the window above, eagerly asking what had 
 befallen. 
 
 No one answered her, but the Signor d'Orco 
 advanced calmly to the side of the fallen man, 
 gazed at him for a moment, and then turned to 
 Lorenzo, asking, " Is he dead ?'' 
 
 *' I know not," replied the young man, sheath- 
 ing his sword. 
 
 "Who is he?" demanded Ramiro again. 
 F 2
 
 100 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 "Neither know I that," said the youth; "he 
 attacked me unprovoked as I walked here upon 
 the terrace in the moonlight; but I never saw 
 his face before, that I know of." 
 
 " Walked and sang," answered Eamiro, drily. 
 "Perhaps he did not like your music, Signor 
 Yisconti. ' 
 
 " Probably," replied the youth, quite calmly. 
 " It was but poor, and yet not worth killing a 
 man for. Besides, as it was not intended for 
 him, but for a lady, it could give him no 
 offence." 
 
 " Not quite clear logic that, good youth," an- 
 swered Eamiro. " Do any of you know this 
 man?" he continued, turning to the servants. 
 
 "Not I," " not I," answered several; but the 
 old Count of Rovera bent down his head toward 
 the man's face, waving the rest away that the 
 moonlight might fall upon him. " Why, this is 
 Pietro Buondoni, of Ferrara!" he exclaimed; 
 " an attendant on Count Ludovico, and a great 
 favorite. What could induce him to attack you, 
 Lorenzo ?"
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 101 
 
 " I know not, sir," replied Lorenzo; " I never 
 set eyes on him before. He called me a French 
 hound, and, ere I could answer him, he had 
 nearly run me through the body. I had hardly 
 time to draw." 
 
 " Well, bear him in — bear him in," said the 
 old lord; " though I judge from his look he will 
 not attack any one again. Did I not see Leonora 
 here?" 
 
 But by this time she was gone, and Lorenzo 
 took care not to answer. As he followed the rest 
 into the villa, however, he stooped to pick up 
 something from the ground. What if it were a 
 lady's glove !
 
 102 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 CHAPTER YIL 
 
 The servants bore Buondoni into the great hall; 
 but it was in vain they attempted for a moment 
 or two to rouse him into consciousness again. 
 There was no waking from the sleep that was 
 upon him. Lorenzo's sword, thrust home, had 
 passed through and through his body, piercing 
 his heart as it went. Yery different were the 
 sensations of the different persons who gazed 
 upon his great, powerful limbs and handsome 
 face, as he lay in death before them. Eamiro 
 d'Orco could hardly be said to feel anything. It 
 was a sight which he had looked on often. 
 Death, in the abstract, touched him in no way. 
 To see a man take any one of his ordinary meals
 
 LEONORA B'ORCO. 103 
 
 or die was the same to him. It was an incident 
 in the world's life — no more. He had no weak 
 sympathies, no thrilling sensibilities, no fanciful 
 shudderings at the extinction of human life. A 
 man was dead — that was all. In that man he 
 had no personal interests. He knew him not. 
 There had been no likelihood that he ever would 
 know him ; if anything, less probability that that 
 man could ever have served him, and therefore 
 there seemed nothing to regret. Neither had 
 there been any chance that Buondoni could ever 
 have injured him, therefore there could be no 
 matter for rejoicing ; but yet, if anything, there 
 was a curious feeling of satisfaction, rather than 
 otherwise, in his breast. Death — the death of 
 others — was a thing not altogether displeasing 
 to him. He knew not why it was so, and per- 
 haps it sometimes puzzled him, for he had been 
 known to say, when he heard a passing-bell, 
 " Well, there is one man less in the world ! 
 There are fools enough left." 
 
 Old men grow hardened to such things, and in 
 the ordinary course of nature, as their own days
 
 104 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 become less and less, as life with them becomes 
 more and more a thing of the past, they estimate 
 the death of others, as they would estimate their 
 own opproaching fate, but lightly. The old Count 
 Rovera looked with but very little feeling upon 
 the dead man; but he thought of his young 
 relation Lorenzo, and of what might be the con- 
 sequences to him. At first, when he remembered 
 that this man had been a great favourite with 
 Ludovic the Moor, and thus another offence had 
 been offered by a Yisconti to a Sforza, he 
 entertained some fears for the youth's safety. 
 But then the recollection of the King of France's 
 powerful protection gave him more confidence, 
 and his sympathies went no farther. 
 
 The feelings of Lorenzo himself were very dif- 
 ferent; but as they w^ere such as would be expe- 
 rienced by most young men , unaccustomed to 
 bloodshed in looking for the first time upon an 
 enemy slain by their own hands, we need not 
 dwell much upon them. There was the shudder- 
 ing impression which the aspect of death always 
 makes upon young, exuberant life. There wa
 
 leo:nora d'orco. 105 
 
 tlie natural feeling of regret at having extin- 
 guished that which we can never reillume. There 
 was that curious, almost fearful inquiry which 
 springs up in the thoughtful mind at the sight of 
 the dead, when our eyes are not much accus- 
 tomed to it, "What is life?" 
 
 While he was still gazing, one of the servants 
 touched the old count's arm and whispered some- 
 thing to him. " Ha !" cried Rovera; " I am told, 
 Lorenzo, you received a letter to-night, which 
 was sent up to your room by one of your men, 
 after we all parted. It was not a challenge, per- 
 chance? If so, you should have chosen some 
 other place for your meeting than our terrace." 
 
 "It was not so, sir," replied Lorenzo, promptly. 
 " I had no previous quarrel with the man. The 
 letter was from his majesty, King Charles. Here 
 it is; you can satisfy yourself." 
 
 " My eyes are dim," said the old man; " read, 
 it, Ramiro." 
 
 The Lord of Oreo took the paper, and read 
 while one of the servants held a flambeau near. 
 
 "Well-beloved Cousin" — so ran the note 
 
 F 5
 
 106 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 — " It has pleased us to bestow on you the troop 
 of our ordnance, become vacant by the death of 
 Monsieur de Moustier. We march hence speedily 
 and the Seigneur de Yitry proceeds to-night 
 toward Pavia. As he will not be able to depart 
 till late in the day, we judge it best to advise 
 you, in order to your preparation, that he will 
 halt near the Yilla Kovera for an hour to-mor- 
 row early, and that we expect you will accom- 
 pany him on his march without delay. Fail not 
 as you would merit our favour. 
 
 " Charles." 
 
 Eamiro read the letter aloud, and then, with- 
 out any comment on the contents, remarked : 
 
 "You have left the impress of your thumb in 
 blood upon the king's missive, Signer Yisconti; 
 you are wounded, mayhap." 
 
 " Ah ! a scratch — a mere scratch in my right 
 shoulder," answered Lorenzo; "I could not com- 
 pletely parry one of his first thrusts, and he 
 touched me, but it is nothing." 
 
 " Oh, you are hurt, Lorenzo ! you are hurt !" 
 cried Bianca Maria, who had come down from
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 107 
 
 her chamber, and was standing behind the little 
 circle which had gathered round the dead man. 
 
 " Get you to bed, child!" said the old count 
 sharply; " these are no matters for you. Your 
 cousin has but a scratch. Get you to bed, girl, 
 I say, this is a pretty pass, that two men cannot 
 fight without having all the women in the house 
 for witnesses !" 
 
 In the mean time Eamiro d'Orco had raised 
 the left hand of the dead man, in which was 
 still firmly clasped his poinard — his sword had 
 fallen out of the right when he fell — and, taking 
 a torch from one of the servants, he gazed along 
 the blade. 
 
 " This dagger is grooved for poison, Conte," 
 he said, addressing his host in the same quiet, 
 indifierent tone he generally used ; * ' better look 
 to the young gentleman's wound." 
 
 " I thank you, sir," replied Lorenzo ; " but it 
 came fromjiis sword, not his poignard. I will 
 retire and let my men stanch the bleeding." 
 
 " Better, at all events, apply some antidote," 
 said Eamiro; "a little parsley boiled will ex-
 
 108 LEONORA d'ORCO, 
 
 tract most poisons, unless tliey remain too long. 
 
 It were well to attend to it speedily." 
 
 " Well, I will go," replied Lorenzo ; " but, I 
 
 call Heaven to witness, I have no blame in this 
 
 man's death. He attacked me unprovoked, and 
 
 I killed him in self-defence." 
 
 "We must take measures to discover how 
 
 this came about," said the count, thoughtfully. 
 " Buondoni can not have come here unat- 
 tended." 
 
 " Better perchance let it rest," said Ramiro 
 d'Orco , " there may be motives at the bottom 
 of the whole affair that were not well brought to 
 the surface. I have gathered little from to- 
 night's discourse of this youth's history ; but he 
 is a Yisconti, and that alone may make him 
 powerful enemies, who had better still be his 
 enemies than yours, father." 
 
 " I fear them not," replied the old nobleman ; 
 '* let diligent inquiry be made around and on the 
 road to Pavia for any stranger arrived this night. 
 Now, Eamiro, come with me for a while, and we 
 will talk farther. Lights, boys, on there in my
 
 109 
 
 cabinet. You are in your niglit gear, signor; 
 but I will not keep you long ere I let you to 
 your slumbers again." 
 
 " They will be my first slumbers," answered 
 Karairo. " I had not closen an eye when I heard 
 talking, and singing, and then clashing of swords 
 ~ no unusual combinations in our fair land, 
 Signor Eovera." 
 
 As he spoke he followed the old count into a 
 small, beautiful room, every panel of which held 
 a picture, of great price then, and invaluable now 
 as specimens of the first revival of art. When 
 they were seated and the doors closed, the elder 
 man fell into a fit of thought, though he had in- 
 vited the conference, and Ramiro d'Orco spoke 
 first. 
 
 "Who is this young Yisconti ?" he asked; 
 " and how comes the King of France to give him 
 cousinship?" 
 
 " Why, he is the son of that Carlo Yisconti 
 who stabbed Galeazzo Sforza," answered the 
 count, " and was killed in the church. The boy 
 was carried by some of his relations to his god-
 
 110 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 father, Lorenzo de Medici, and educated by 
 him.'^ 
 
 " Then 'tis Ludovic's doing," said Kamiro j 
 " he has sent this man to make away with him, 
 though that was a bad return for his father's 
 kind act in lifting him to power. By my faith 
 he should have raised and honoured the boy. 
 That good stroke of a dagger was worth three 
 quarters of a dukedom to the good prince. But 
 I suppose, from all I learn, that the youth is now 
 trying adventure as a soldier." 
 
 " Soldier he is under the King of France," an- 
 swered the old man; "but an adventurer he 
 hardly can be called, for he has large estates in 
 Tuscany. When Ludovic seized the regency, he 
 was fain to court Lorenzo de Medici for support, 
 and right willingly he agreed to change the es- 
 tates of his brother's executioner for the lands 
 which his father Francesco had obtained in gra- 
 tuity from Florence. No, he is wealthy enough, 
 and if he serves, it is but for honor or ambition." 
 
 " But how is he cousin to the King of France?"
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. Ill 
 
 asked Ramiro; " it is a cousinship of much value 
 as events are passing nowadays." 
 
 "Why, do you not recollect?" asked the old 
 man, somewhat testily, " that Yalentina Visconti 
 married Louis, brother of Charles the Sixth of 
 France, grandfather of the present Duke of Or- 
 leans, who will one day be King of France too, 
 if the marriage of this young king be sterile. 
 Three years have passed without any prospect of 
 another heir, and then the future of this youth 
 is bright indeed." 
 
 " It is," answered Eamiro; and, after a mo- 
 ment's thought, he added, " I suppose you intend 
 to marry him to your granddaughter." 
 
 " Good sooth, they may do as they like, Ra- 
 miro," answered the old man. "I have made 
 marriages for my children, and seen none of 
 them happy or successful. Some remorse — at 
 least regret — lies in the thought. I have but 
 this child left for all kindred, and she shall make 
 her marriage for herself. I may give advice, 
 but will use no compulsion. In truth, I one time
 
 112 LEONORA DORCO. 
 
 sought her uaion with Lorenzo, for he is not 
 only full of promise, rich, noble, allied to royal 
 houses both of France and England, but, with 
 high spirit, there is allied in him a tenderness 
 and love but rarely found. I marked it in him 
 early, when he was page to that magnificent 
 prince his godfather. The other lads, who loved 
 or seemed to love him, were sure to prosper 
 through his advocacy of merits less than his own- 
 In furtherance of my wish, I had Bianca brought 
 up with him in Florence; but, like an unskilful 
 archer, I fear I have overshot my mark. The 
 one is as a brother to the other ; and I believe 
 she would as soon marry her brother as Lorenzo. 
 On his part I know not what the feelings are. 
 He seems to love her well, but still with love 
 merely fraternal, if one may judge by eyes and 
 looks. I've seen more fire in one glance at Leonora 
 than in poor Lorenzo's life was given to any 
 other. But this unfortunate fight may breed 
 mischief, I fear. If Ludovic sent the man to 
 kill him, he will not soon be ofi" the track of 
 blood. Thank Heaven! he is soon going on."
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 113 
 
 " I think there is no fear," replied Ramiro, 
 " unless Buondoni's blade was well anointed. 
 Ludovic is too wise to follow him up too fiercely. 
 We may run down our game eagerly enough 
 upon our own lands, but do not carry the chase 
 into fche lands of another, Signor Rovera." 
 
 '^As soon as Lorenzo can rejoin the King of 
 France, he is safe," rejoined the Count, " and 
 methinks, till then, I can take care, of him. I 
 know the look of a poisoner or assassin at 
 a street^s distance. Only let us look to his wound ; 
 I have known one of the same scratches end a 
 good strong man's life in a few hours." 
 
 " So say I," answered Ramiro, " but I will go 
 out and walk upon the terrace. I feel not 
 disposed to sleep. If you should want me, call 
 me in. I know something of poisons and their 
 antidotes; I studied them when I was in Padua; 
 for, in this life, no one knows how often one may 
 be called upon to practise such chirurgy on his 
 own behalf" 
 
 Thus saying, he left the Count de Rovera, and 
 while the other, half dressed as he was, hurried
 
 114 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 up to Lorenzo^s chamber, Eamiro, with his usual 
 calm and almost noiseless step, went forth and 
 walked the terrace up and down. For more than 
 an hour he paced it from end to end, with all 
 his thoughts turned inward. "A distant cousin 
 of this King of France,** he thought, *'and 
 almost german to his apparent heir ! Wealthy 
 himself and full of high courage ! The lad must 
 rise — ay, high, high ! He has it in his look. 
 Such are the men upon whose rising fortunes one 
 should take hold, and be carried up with them. 
 It was surely Leonora's voice I heard talking 
 with him from the windows. If so, Fortune has 
 arranged all well; yet one must be careful — no 
 too rapid steps. We fly from that which seeks 
 us — run after that which flies. I will mark them 
 both well, and shut my eyes, and let things take 
 their course, or else raise some small difficulties, 
 soon overleaped, to give the young lover fresh 
 ardor in the chase. Pity he is so young — and 
 yet no pity either. It will afford us time to see 
 how far he reaches." 
 
 With such thoughts as these he occupied
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 115 
 
 himself so deeply that his eyes were seldom 
 raised from the ground on which he trod. At 
 length, however, he looked up toward the 
 windows; and there was one in which the lights 
 still burned, while figures might be seen, from 
 time to time, passing across. 
 
 " That must be his chamber," said Ramiro to 
 himself. " I fear the blade was poisoned, and 
 that it has had some effect. I must go and see. 
 'Twere most unlucky such a chance should escape 
 me. Let me see ; where is that snake-stone I had? 
 It will extract the venom,'' and, entering the 
 house, he mounted the stairs rapidly to Lorenzo's 
 chamber. 
 
 He found him sick indeed. The whole arm and 
 shoulder were greatly swollen ; and while the old 
 count stood beside his bed with a look of anxious 
 fear, a servant held the young man up to ease 
 his troubled respiration. Lorenzo's face seemed 
 that of a dying man — the features pale and 
 sharp, the eye dull and glassy. 
 
 "Send for a clerk," said the youth; "there
 
 116 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 is no time for notaries ; but I wish my last tes- 
 tament taken down and witnessed." 
 
 '' Cheer up, cheer up, my good young friend," 
 said Eamiro. "What! you are very sick; the 
 blade was poisoned, doubtless." 
 
 " It must be so," said the young man, faintly; 
 " I feel it in every vein." 
 
 " Well, well, fear not," answered Ramiro; " I 
 have that at hand which will soon draw out the 
 poison. Here, man," he continued, speaking to 
 one of the attendants, who half filled the room, 
 " run to mv chamber. On the stool near the 
 window you will find a leathern bag ; bring it to 
 me with all speed. You, sir, young page, speed 
 off to the buttery, and bring some of the strong- 
 est of the water of life which the house affords. 
 It killed the King of Navarre, they say, but it 
 will help to give life to you, Lorenzo." 
 
 " The bottigliere will not let me have it, sir," 
 replied the boy. 
 
 "Here, take my ring," said the old count; 
 " make haste — make haste !"
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 117 
 
 The boy had hardly left the room, when the 
 servant first despatched returned with the lea- 
 ther bag for which he had been sent.^^It was 
 soon opened, and, after some search, Eamiro took 
 forth a small packet, and unfolded rapidly paper 
 after paper, which covered apparently some very 
 precious thing within, speaking quietly as he 
 did so : 
 
 " This is one of those famous snake-stones,'* 
 he said, " which, when a man is bitten by any 
 reptile, be it as poisonous as the Egyptian asp, 
 will draw forth the venom instantly from his 
 veins. Heaven knows, but I know not, whe- 
 ther it is a natural substance provided for the 
 cure of one of nature's greatest evils, or some 
 cunningly invented mithridate compounded by 
 deep science. I bought it at a hundred times 
 its weight in gold from an old and renowned 
 physician at Padua ; and it as certain a cure for 
 the case of a poisoned dagger-wound as for the 
 bite of a snake. Ah ! here it is ! have bare the 
 place where the sword entered." 
 
 " Pity it came not a little sooner," said Lo-
 
 118 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 renzo's servant, taking off some bandages from 
 his master's shoulder; " physic is late for a dying 
 man." 
 
 Eamiro d'Orco gave him a look that seemed 
 to pierce him like a dagger, for the man drew 
 back as if he had been struck, and almost 
 suffered his master to fall back upon the 
 bed. 
 
 "Hold him up, fool!" said Eamiro, sternly; 
 and, holding the wound, which had been 
 stanched, wide open with one hand till the blood 
 began to flow again, he placed what seemed a 
 small brownish stone, hardly bigger than a pea 
 in the aperture, and then bound the bandages 
 tightly round the spot. 
 
 "That boy comes not,'' he said; "some of 
 you run and hasten him." 
 
 But ere his orders could be obeyed the page 
 returned, with a large silver flagon and a Venice 
 glass on a salver. 
 
 " Now, Signer Visconti, drink this," said 
 Eamiro, filling a glass and applying it to his 
 lips.'
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 119 
 
 Lorenzo drank, murmuring,--" It is like 
 fire." 
 
 "So is life," answered Eamiro; "but you 
 must drink three times, with a short interval. 
 How feel you now?" 
 
 " Sick, sick, and faint," replied Lorenzo. 
 But some lustre had already come back into his 
 eye; and after a short pause, Kamiro refilled 
 the glass, saying, 
 
 " Here, drink again." 
 
 The young man seemed to swallow more easily 
 than before, and, in a moment or two after he 
 had drunk, he said in a low voice, 
 
 "I feel better. That stone, or whatever it 
 is, seems as it were sucking out the burning 
 heat from the wound. I breathe more freely, 
 too." 
 
 " All is going well," replied Eamiro. " One 
 more draught, and, though you be not cured, and 
 must remain for days, perchance, in your 
 chamber, the enemy is vanquished. You shall 
 have cheerful faces and sweet voices round you 
 to soothe your confinement; but you must be
 
 120 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 very still and quiet, lest the poison, settling in 
 the wound itself, though we have drawn it from 
 the heart, should beget gangrene. Bianca, your 
 dear cousin, and my child Leonora, she.U attend 
 you. Here, drink again." 
 
 Lorenzo felt that with such sweet nurses he 
 would not mind his wound; but the third draft 
 revived him more than all. His voice regained 
 its firmness, his eye its light. The sob- 
 bing, hard-drawn respiration gave way to easy, 
 regular breathing ; and, after a few minutes, he 
 said, 
 
 " I feel almost well, and think I could sleep." 
 
 "All goes aright," said Ramiro; " you may 
 sleep now in safety. That marvellous stone has 
 already drawn into itself all the deadly venom 
 that had spread through your whole blood. 
 Nothing is wanting but quiet and support. 
 Some one sit by him while he sleeps; and if 
 perchance he wakes, give him another draught out 
 of this tankard. Let us all go now, and leave 
 him to repose." 
 
 " I will sit by him, signor," said the man 
 
 4 
 %
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 121 
 
 who had been supporting him; ''for there be 
 some who would not leave a drop in the tankard 
 big enough to drown a flea, and I have sworn 
 never to taste aqua vitce again, since it nearly 
 burst my head open at Kheims, in France.'* 
 
 Before he had done speaking Lorenzo was 
 sound asleep ; and while the servant let his head 
 drop softly on the pillow, the rest silently quitted 
 the room. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 122 LEONORA D'ORCO, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A FEW hours earlier on the day of which we 
 have just been speaking, a gallant band of men- 
 at-arms rode forward on the highway between 
 Milan and Pavia. It consisted of nearly four 
 hundred lances, that is to say, of about eight 
 hundred men. Had it been complete, the num- 
 ber would have amounted to many more, for the 
 usual proportion was at least three inferior sol- 
 diers, esquires, or pages to each lance; but the 
 eagerness of the young King of France to 
 achieve what he believed would be an easy 
 conquest had hurried his departure from France 
 ere his musters were one half filled.
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 123 
 
 A short repose in Milan had sufficed to wipe 
 away all stains of travel from his host; and the 
 band of the Lord of Yitry appeared in all their 
 accoutrements, what Rosalind calls "point de- 
 vice." It is true, the day had been somewhat 
 dry and sultry, and some dust had gathered 
 upon splendid surcoats, and scarfs, and sword- 
 knots; and the horses, so gay and full of spirit 
 in the morning, now looked somewhat fatigued, 
 but by no means jaded. 
 
 At their head rode their commander, a man 
 of some thirty to two and thirty years of age, 
 of a fine, manly person and handsome counten- 
 ance, although the expression might be somewhat 
 quick and hasty, and a deep scar on the brow 
 rather marred the symmetry of his face. By 
 his side, on a horse of much inferior power, but 
 full of fire and activity, rode a man, not exactly 
 in he garb of a servant, but yet plainly habited 
 and nearly unarmed. Sword and dagger most 
 men wore in those days, but he wore neither 
 lance nor shield, cuiras^s nor back-piece. He 
 carried a little black velvet cap upon his head, 
 G 2
 
 124 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 with a long feather ; and he rode in shoes of un- 
 tanned leather, with long, sharp points, somewhat 
 like a pod of mustard-seed. 
 
 " Are you sure you know the way, Master 
 Tony?" asked De Vitry. 
 
 '' I know the way right well, noble lord," re- 
 plied the other ; " but you do me too much honor 
 to call me master. In Italy none is master but 
 a man of great renown in the arts." 
 
 " Good faith, I know not what you are," an- 
 swered the leader, " and I never could make out 
 what young Lorenzo kept you always trotting at 
 his heels for, like a hound after his master." 
 
 "You do me too much honor again, my 
 lord," replied the other, " in comparing me to a 
 hound." 
 
 " What, then, in Fortune's name, are you?" 
 asked De Yitry, laughing. 
 
 " A mongrel," replied Antonio, " half French, 
 half Italian; but pray, your lordship, donH 
 adjure me by Fortune ; for the blind goddess with 
 the kerchief over her eyes has never been favor- 
 able to me all my life."
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 125 
 
 *' Time she should change then," answered De 
 Vitry. 
 
 " Oh, sir, she is like a school-boy," answered 
 Antonio, "she never changes but from mischief 
 to mischief; only constant in doing evil; and 
 whichever side of her wheel turns uppermost, 
 my lot is sure to slide down to the bottom. But 
 here your lordship must turn off." 
 
 De Vitry was following on the road to which 
 the other pointed, when a voice behind said : 
 
 " You are leaving the high road, my lord. If 
 you look forward, you will see this is but a nar- 
 row lane." 
 
 "By my faith that is true," said the commander 
 of the band; " you are not tricking me I trust. 
 Master Antonio. Halt there — halt !" 
 
 "It might be fine fun to trick a French 
 knight if I were my lord's jester," said Antonio, 
 " but I have not arrived at that dignity yet." 
 
 " Where does that road lead to, then, sir- 
 rah?" demanded De Vitry, pointing to the 
 one they were just leaving.
 
 126 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 " To Pavia, my lord," replied the man ; '' but 
 you will find tliis the shortest, and, I judge, the 
 best." 
 
 There was a lurking smile upon Antonio^s 
 face, which De Vitry did not like; and, after but 
 a moment's hesitation, he turned his horse back 
 into the other path, saying : 
 
 " I will take the broad way; I never liked 
 narrower crooked paths in my life." 
 
 '' I trust you will then allow me to follow the 
 other, sir," said Antonio; " first because there 
 is no use in trying to guide people who will not 
 be guided, and, secondly, because I have some- 
 thing important to say to my young lord." 
 
 "No, sir — no," answered De Vitry sharply; 
 " ride here by my side. To-morrow at farthest 
 I will take care to know whether you have tried 
 to deceive me: and if you have beware your 
 ears." 
 
 "You will know to-night, my lord," said the 
 man, " and my ears are in no danger, if you are 
 not given, like many another gentleman, to cuf- 
 fing other people for your own faults."
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 127 
 
 *'You are somewhat saucy, sir," replied the 
 marquis; " your master spoils you methinks." 
 
 The man saw that his companion was not to be 
 pro voke(> farther, and was silent while they rode 
 onward. 
 
 It was now drawing towards evening, but the 
 light had not yet faded; and De Yitry gazed 
 around with a soldier's eye, scanning the mili- 
 tary aspect of the country around. 
 
 " Is there not a river runs behind that ridge, 
 Master Tony ?" he asked at the end of ten minutes, 
 with easily recovered good-humour. 
 
 " Yes, sir,^' replied the man shortly. 
 
 " And what castle is that on the left — there, 
 far in the distance?" 
 
 " That is the castle of Sant' Angelo," 
 answered Antonio. 
 
 " Why, here is the river right before us," said 
 De Yitry, "but where is the bridge?" 
 
 " Heaven knows," replied the man, with the 
 same quiet smile he had borne before : " part of 
 it, you may see, is standing on the other side.
 
 128 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 and there are a few stones on this, if they can be 
 of any service to your lordship. The rest took 
 to travelling down toward the Po some month or 
 two ago, and how far they have marche J I cannot 
 tell/' 
 
 *' Doubtless we can ford it," said De Vitry, in 
 an indifferent tone. 
 
 ''First send your enemy, my lord," replied 
 Antonio, " then your friend, and then try it 
 yourself — if you like." 
 
 " By my life, I have a mind to send you first, 
 head foremost," replied the commander, sharply, 
 but the next moment he burst into a good- 
 humoured laugh, saying, " Well, what is to be 
 done ? The stream seems deep and strong. We 
 did you wrong, Antonio. Now^ lead us right at 
 all events." 
 
 " You did yourself wrong, and your own 
 eyesight, my lord," answered the man, "for, if 
 you had looked at the tracks on the road, you 
 would have seen that all the ox-carts for the last 
 month have turned off where T would have led 
 you. You have only now to go back again."
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 129 
 
 "A hard punishment for a light fault," replied 
 De Vitry. " Why told you me not this before, 
 my good sir." 
 
 "• Because, my lord, I have always thought St. 
 Anthony, my patron, was wrong in preaching to 
 fishes which have no ears. But we had better 
 speed, sir, for it is touching upon evening, and 
 night will have fallen before we reach Sant' 
 Angelo. There you will find good quarters in the 
 Borgo for your men; and, doubtless, the noble 
 signor in the castle will come down at the first 
 sound of your trumpets, and ask you and your 
 prime officers to feast with him above. He is a 
 noble lord, and loves the powers that be. Well, 
 that the devil has not come upon earth in his 
 day, for he would have entertained him royally 
 and might have injured his means in honor of his 
 guest." 
 
 De Vitry burst into another gay laugh, and, 
 turning his horse's head, gave orders for his band 
 to retrace their steps, upon which, of course, the 
 young men commented as they would, while the 
 
 G 5
 
 130 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 old soldiers obeyed without question, even in their 
 thoughts. 
 
 Night had long fallen when they reached Sant' 
 Angelo, a place then of much more importance 
 than it is now, or has been for two centuries. 
 But Antonio had been mistaken in supposing that 
 De Yitry and his principal officers would be in- 
 vited to lodge within the castle. The lord thereof 
 was absent, knowing that the route of the King 
 of France must be close to his residence. He was 
 well aware that the attachment professed toward 
 the young monarch by persons more powerful 
 than himself was all hollow and deceptive, and 
 that inferior men, in conflicts of great interests, 
 ahvays suffer, whose party soever they espouse. 
 But he knew, too, that unexplained neutrality 
 suffers more than all, and he resolved to absent 
 himself from his lands on the first news of the 
 arrival of the King of France in Italy, that he 
 might seem to favor neither him nor his opponents, 
 and yet not proclaim a neutrality which would 
 make enemies of both.
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 131 
 
 The castle, indeed, would at once have opened 
 its gates, had it been summoned ; but De Vitry, 
 knowing the king's anxiety to keep on good 
 terms with all the Italian nobles of Lombardy, 
 contented himself with lodgings in the humble 
 inn of the place, and hunger made his food seem 
 as good as any which the castle could have af- 
 forded. The supper passed gaily over ; the men 
 were scattered in quarters through the little 
 borough ; wine was with difficulty procured by 
 any but the officers, and sober, perforce, the 
 soldiery sought rest early. De Vitry and one 
 or two others sat up late, sometimes talking, 
 sometimes falling into fits of thought. 
 
 Antonio, in the meantime, had not even 
 thought of rest. He had carefully attended to 
 his horse, had ordered him to be fed, and seen 
 him eat his food, and he stood before the door of 
 the inn, gazing up at the moon, as if enjoying 
 the calm sweetness of the soft Italian nights, but 
 in reality meditating a farther ride as soon as 
 all the rest were asleep. It was in the shadiest 
 corner of this doorway that the man had placed
 
 132 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 himself, and yet lie could see the full, nearly- 
 rounded orb without coming under her beams. 
 As so often happens, two processes seemed going 
 on in his mind at once; one suggested by objects 
 present, and finding utterance in an occasional 
 murmured sentence or two, the other originating 
 in things past, and proceeding silently. 
 
 "Ay, Madam Moon," he said; "you are a 
 curious creature, with your changes and your 
 risings, and your settings, and your man with 
 his dog and lantern. I wonder what you really 
 are. You look like a great big ducat nailed 
 upon the sky, or a seal of yellow wax pendent 
 from the charter of the heavens. I could al- 
 most fancy, though, that I can see behind you 
 on this clear night. Perhaps you are but the 
 big boss of a sconce, put up there to reflect the 
 light of the sun. You will soon be up there, 
 just above the watch-tower of the castle, like a 
 ball upon a gate-post. Hark ! there are people 
 riding late. By my faith ! if they be travellers 
 coming hither, they will find scanty lodging and 
 little to eat. These gormandizing Frenchmen
 
 LEONORA D*ORCO. 133 
 
 have gobbled up everything in the village, I 
 warrant, and occupied every bed. On my faith, 
 they will find themselves too confident some 
 day: not a sentry set except at the stables; 
 no one on guard; the two or three officers 
 in the dining-hall. They think they have got 
 Italy at their feet; they may discover that 
 they are mistaken before they Jeave it. These 
 horsemen are coming hither. Who can they 
 be?" 
 
 While these thoughts had been occupying one 
 part of the man — I know not how better to ex- 
 press it — and had more or less clothed themselves 
 in words, another train, more nearly allied to 
 feeling, had been proceeding silently in the 
 deeper recesses of his bosom. There was some- 
 thing which made him half sorry that he had 
 been prevented from proceeding further before 
 nightfall, half angry with him who had been, 
 partly at least, the cause of the delay. "I do 
 not believe," he thought, "that the big bravo 
 can reach the villa before morning. He had not 
 set out when we came away, and yet I should
 
 134 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 like to see the young lord to-night. I have a 
 great mind to get upon my horse's skin at once 
 and go on. But then, a thousand to one, De 
 Vitry would send after and stop me; and if I 
 were to meet Buondoni and his people, I should 
 get my throat cut, and all my news would escape 
 through the gash. If I could persuade this 
 dashing French captain to lend me half a dozen 
 men now, I might do something ; but their horses 
 are all tired with carrying the cart-load of iron 
 each has got upon his shoulders. Hark ! these 
 travellers are coming nearer. Perhaps they may 
 bring some news from the Villa Eovera. They 
 are coming from that side." 
 
 He drew farther back into the shadow of the 
 gateway. It may seem strange that he did so; 
 for even in distracted England, in those days as 
 well as afterward, the first impulse of the lodger 
 in an inn was to meet the coming guest and ob- 
 tain the general tidings which he brought, and 
 which were hardly to be obtained from any other 
 source. But in Italy men had learned such cau- 
 tion that every stranger was considered an enemy
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 135 
 
 till he was ascertained to be a friend. The evils 
 of high civilisation were upon the land, without 
 any of its benefits ; nay, more, this had endured 
 so long that suspicion might almost be looked 
 upon as the normal condition of the Italian 
 mind. 
 
 The republics of Italy have been highly extol- 
 led by eloquent men, but their results were all 
 evil except in one respect. They served to 
 preserve a memory of the arts — to rescue, in fact? 
 something which might decorate life from the 
 wreck of perished years. In thus speaking, I 
 include commerce with the arts. But as to social 
 advancement, they did nothing except through 
 the instrumentality of those arts. They en- 
 deavoured to revive ancient forms unsuited to 
 the epoch ; they succeeded in so doing only for the 
 briefest possible period, and the effort ended 
 everywhere, first in anarchy, and then in despot- 
 ism — each equally destructive to individual hap- 
 piness, to general security, and to public morals. 
 They afforded a spectacle, at once humiliating 
 and terrible, of the impotence of the human mind
 
 136 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 to stem the strong, calm current of pre-ordained 
 events. Their brief existence, their lamentable 
 failure, the brightness of their short course, and 
 the evils consequent upon the attempts to recall 
 rotten institutions from millennial graves, were 
 but as the last flash of the expiring candle of old 
 Rome, ending in darkness and a bad smell. For 
 more than two centuries, at the time I speak of, 
 life and property in Italy had enjoyed no secu- 
 rity except in the continual watchfulness of the 
 possessor. The minds of men were armed as 
 well as their bodies, and thus had been engen- 
 dered that suspicion and that constant watchful- 
 ness which rendered life a mere campaign, 
 because the world was one battle field. 
 
 Oh ! happy state under the old Saxon King of 
 England, when from one end to the other of the 
 bright island a young girl might carry a purse of 
 gold unmolested ! 
 
 Antonio drew back as the travellers approached 
 to hear something of who and what they were 
 before he ventured to deal with them personally. 
 They were within a few yards of him in a
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 137 
 
 minute, drawing in the rein when they came op- 
 posite the archway leading to the stable-yard. 
 There the first challenge of a sentinel was heard, 
 and the answer given, " Amici !'* showed that 
 they were Italians. 
 
 The word was uttered quickly and in a tone 
 of surprise, which showed they were unaware the 
 borgo had been occupied by the French troops; 
 but, after a few whispered sentences, one of the 
 four who had newly arrived asked the sentinel, in 
 marvellous bad French, to call the landlord or one 
 of the horse-boys. They wanted food for them- 
 selves and horses, they said, and hoped to find 
 some place to rest in for the night. 
 
 The sentinel grumbled forth something to the 
 effect that they were much mistaken, but, raising 
 his stentorian voice, he called the people of the 
 house into the courtyard; and Antonio gazed 
 forth and scrutinised the appearance of the new- 
 comers for a minute or two, while they made their 
 application for entertainment, and heard all the 
 objections and difficulties laid before them by the 
 landlord, who was already overcrowded, but un-
 
 138 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 willing to lose certain lire which they might ex- 
 pend in his house. 
 
 " I can hut feed your horses in the yard, and 
 give you some straw aud covering for yourselves 
 Signor Sacchi," replied the landlord; " and then 
 you must lie on the floor of the hall." 
 
 The leading horseman turned to consult with 
 liis three companions, saying, " He told us' to 
 wait him here if he came not in an hour." 
 
 ^'Nay, I understood, if he came not in an 
 hour," replied another, " we were to conclude he 
 
 lie had obtained entertainment in the Villa , 
 
 whicli the count's letter was sure to secure for 
 him; but I did not hear him say we were to 
 come back here, as I told you long ago, Sacchi." 
 
 But before they had proceeded even thus far, 
 Antonio had re-entered the house, and. was con- 
 versing eagerly with the young Marquis de 
 Yitry. 
 
 " If you will but let me have half a dozen com- 
 mon troopers, my lord," said he — " I know not 
 how many this man may have with him, but I 
 will risk that"
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 139 
 
 *^ But who is he? who is he?" asked De Vitrj, 
 "and what are your causes of suspicion?" 
 
 " Why I told you, my lord," replied Antonio, 
 " he is that tall, big-limbed Ferrara man who is 
 so great a favourite with the Count Regent — 
 Buondoni is his name. Then, as to the causes of 
 suspicion, I came upon Ludovic and him talking 
 in the gallery of the castle last night, and I heard 
 the count say, 'Put him out of the way any how; 
 he is a viper in my path, and must be removed. 
 Surely, Buondoni, you can pick a quarrel with 
 the young hound, and rid me of him. He is not 
 a very fearful enemy, I think, to a master of fence 
 like you !' Thereupon the other laughed, saying, 
 'Well, my lord, I will set out to-night or to- 
 morrow, and you shall hear of something being 
 done before Thursday, unless Signor Rovera takes 
 good care of his young kinsman.' ' Let him be- 
 ware how he crosses me,' muttered the Moor. 
 And now, Signor de Vitry, I am anxious to 
 warn my young lord of what is plotting against 
 him." 
 
 " After all, it may be against another, a dif-
 
 140 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 ferent person from him you suppose," replied De 
 Vitry. " This Buondoni, if it be the same man, 
 was insolent to young De Terrail, and Bayard 
 struck him. We also were going to halt at the 
 Yilla Rovera, and Ludovic knew it." 
 
 " But, my lord," exclaimed Antonio, " do you 
 not perceive — " 
 
 " I see, I see," replied De Vitry, interrupting 
 him: ''I know what you would say. Ludovic 
 has no cause to hate Bayard or to remove him ; 
 it was but Buondoni's private quarrel. Thereis 
 some truth in that. Are you sure these men just 
 arrived are his servants?" 
 
 " As sure as the sun moves round the earth/^ 
 replied Antonio. 
 
 " Nay, that I know naught of," answered De 
 Vitry ; " but here they come, I suppose. Find 
 out De Terrail, Antonio. Tell him to take 
 twenty men of his troop and go forward with 
 you. You can tell him your errand as you go. 
 I will deal awhile with these gentlemen, and see 
 what I can make out of them." 
 
 Antonio retired quietly, keeping to the shady
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 141 
 
 side of the large ill-lighted hall, while the three 
 freshly-arrived travellers moved slowly forward, 
 with a respectful air, toward the table near which 
 De Vitry sat. 
 
 "Give you good evening, gentlemen," said the 
 marquis, turning sharply round as soon as he 
 heard their footsteps near. " Whence come 
 you?" 
 
 " From Pavia, my lord," said Sacchi, a large- 
 boned, black-bearded man. 
 
 " And what news bring you?" inquired the 
 French commander. 
 
 " None, my lord," replied the man ; " all was 
 marvellous peaceful." 
 
 " Ay, peace is a marvel in this wicked world," 
 answered De Vitry. " Called you at the Villa 
 Rovera as you passed?" 
 
 " No, sir — that is, we stopped a moment, but 
 did not call." replied Sacchi. 
 
 "And what did you stop for?" asked the 
 Frenchman. 
 
 " Only just to — to be sure of our way," replied 
 Sacchi."
 
 142 LEONORA d'oRCO. 
 
 "And you came from Pavia, then?" said De 
 Vitry. '' You must have set out at a late hour, 
 especially for men who did not rightly know 
 their way. But methinks I saw you in Milan 
 this morning. Will you have the bounty to 
 wake that gentleman at the end of the table, who 
 has gone to sleep over his wine ?" 
 
 He spoke in the calmest and most good- 
 humoured tone, without moving in his seat, his 
 feet stretched out before him, and his head 
 thrown back; and the man to whom he spoke 
 approached the French officer who was seated 
 sleeping at the table, and took him by the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Shake him," said De Yitry; "shake him 
 hard; he sleeps soundly when he does sleep." 
 
 Sacchi did as he was bid, and the officer 
 started up, exclaiming : 
 
 " What is it? Aux armes !" 
 
 " No need of arms, Montcour," answered his 
 commander; "only do me the favor of taking 
 that gentleman by the collar, and placing him in 
 arrest."
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 143 
 
 He spoke at first slowly, but increased in ra- 
 pidity of utterance as he saw his officer's sleepy 
 senses begin to awaken. But Montcour was 
 hardly enough roused to execute his orders, and 
 though he stretched out his hand somewhat 
 quickly toward Sacchi's neck, the Italian had 
 time to jump back and make toward the door. 
 
 De Yitry was on his feet in a moment, how- 
 ever, and barred the way, sword in hand. The 
 other servants of Buondoni rushed to the only 
 other way out; but there were officers of De 
 Vitry^s band not quite so sleepy as Montcour, 
 and, without waiting for orders, they soon made 
 three out of the four prisoners. The other 
 leaped from the window and escaped. 
 
 " My lord, my lord, this is too bad !" exclaimed 
 Sacchi ; " you came here as friends and allies of 
 the noble Kegent, and you are hardly ten days in 
 the country before you begin to abuse his sub- 
 jects and servants." 
 
 For a moment or two De Yitry kept silence, 
 and gazed at his prisoner with a look of con- 
 tempt. The man did not like either the look or
 
 144 
 
 the silence. Each was significant, but difficult 
 to answer; and in a moment after, De Vitry 
 having given him over to one of the subaltern 
 officers, nodded his head, quietly sayings 
 
 " We understand you, sirrah, better than you 
 think. If I were to consider you really as a 
 servant of Prince Ludovic, I might remark that 
 the regent invited us here as friends and allies, 
 and we had been scarcely ten days in the land 
 ere he sent you and others to murder one of our 
 officers, and a kinsman of our king ; but I do not 
 choose to consider you as his servant, nor to believe 
 that he is responsible for your acts. The king 
 must judge of that as he finds reason, and either 
 hang you or your master, as in his equity, he 
 judges right. As to other matters, you know 
 your first word was a lie, that you do not come 
 from Pavia at all, and that the beginning and 
 end of your journey was the Villa Rovera. 
 What you have done there I do not know, but I 
 know the object of your master.*' 
 
 " But sir, I have nought to do with my mas- 
 ter's business," replied Sacchi. " I know naught
 
 14o 
 
 of his objects; I only know that T obey my 
 orders." 
 
 " Hark ye ! we are wasting words," said De 
 Vitry. " Doubtless you will be glad to know 
 what I intend to do with you. I shall keep 3^ou 
 here till an hour before daybreak, and then take 
 you on to the villa. If I find tliat one hair of 
 Lorenzo Yisconti's head has suffered, I will first 
 hang your master, the worshipful Signor Buon- 
 doni, on the nearest tree, and then hang you 
 three round him for the sake of symmetry. I 
 swear it on the cross;" and he devoutly kissed 
 the hilt of his sword. 
 
 Sacchi's face turned deadly pale, and he mur- 
 mured : 
 
 " It will be too late — to-morrow — before to- 
 morrow it will be done." 
 
 ''What is that you mutter?" said De Vitry; 
 " what do you mean will be done?" 
 
 " Why, my lord," replied the man, " my mas- 
 ter — my master may have some grudge against 
 the young lord Lorenzo. He is a man of quick 
 action, and does not tarry long in his work. I 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 know naught about it, so help me Heaven ! but 
 it is hard to put an innocent man^s life in jeo- 
 pardy for what may happen in a night. Better 
 set off at once and stop the mischief rather than 
 avenge it." 
 
 '^ So, so!" said De Vitry ; " then the story is 
 all too true. Bayard ! Bayard !" 
 
 " He has just passed into the court, seigneur/^ 
 replied one of the young officers who w^as 
 standing near the window ; '' he and some others 
 are mounting their horses now. Shall I call 
 him ?" 
 
 " No, let him go," answered the leader ; " he 
 is always prompt and always wise. We can 
 trust it all to him. As for these fellows, take 
 them and put them in an upper room where they 
 cannot jump out. Set a guard at the door. You, 
 signors, best know whether your consciences are 
 quite clear ; but if they be not, I advise you to 
 make your peace with Heaven as best you may 
 during the night, for I strongly suspect, from 
 what you yourselves admit, that I shall have to 
 raise you a little above earthly things about
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 147 
 
 dawn to-morrow. There, take them away. I 
 do not want to hear any more. Our good King 
 Louis, eleventh of the name, had a way of deco- 
 rating trees after such a sort. I have seen as 
 many as a dozen all pendant at onceVhen I was 
 a young boy, and I do not know why it should 
 go against my stomach to do this same with a 
 pack of murderous wolves, who seem made by 
 Heaven for the purpose of giving a warning to 
 their countrymen." 
 
 h2
 
 148 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 When Lorenzo awoke— and his sleep was not of 
 such long duration as fully to outlive the dark- 
 ness—he found more than one person watching 
 him. Close by his side sat Ramiro d'Orco, and 
 near the foot of his bed the lamplight fell upon 
 the well-known face of his faithful follower, 
 Antonio. He felt faint and somewhat confused, 
 and he had a throbbing of the brow and temples, 
 which told him he was ill ; but for some moments 
 he remembered nothing of the events which had 
 taken place the night before. 
 
 "How feel you, my young friend?" asked 
 Ramiro, in a far more gracious tone than he 
 commonly used ; " yet speak low and carefully,
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 149 
 
 for, though the antidote has overwrought the 
 poison, you must long he watchful of your 
 health, and make no exertion." 
 
 " You are very kind, Signor Ramiro," replied 
 the young man. " I believe I was wounded last 
 night, and that the blade was poisoned — yes, it 
 was so, and I owe you my life." 
 
 " I speak not of that, Lorenzo, " replied 
 Ramiro; " I am right glad I was here, and could 
 wish much that I could remain to watch you in 
 your convalescence, for a relapse might be fatal ; 
 but I will trust you to hands more delicate, 
 if not so skilful as my own. Men make bad 
 nurses ; women are the fit attendants for a sick 
 room, and your pretty little cousin, Bianca 
 Maria — as gentle and sweet as an angel — and 
 my child Leonora, whom you know, shall be 
 your companions. I will charge them both to 
 watch you at all moments, and, under their ten- 
 der care, I warrant you will soon recover. I 
 myself must ride hence ere noon, for I must be 
 in Rome ere ten days are over. Ere that you 
 will be quite well ; and should it be needful that
 
 150 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 Leonora should follow me, I will trust to your 
 noble care to bring her on through this dis- 
 tracted country. I know you will reverence 
 her youth and innocence for her father's sake, 
 who has done all he could for you in a moment of 
 great peril." 
 
 Lorenzo's heart beat with joy at the mere 
 thought. I would have said thrilled, but, un- 
 happily, the misuse of good words by vulgar and 
 ignorant men banishes them, in process of time, 
 from the dictionary. The multitude is too 
 strong for individual worth, and prevails. 
 
 " On my honor and my soul," replied Lorenzo, 
 " I will guard her with all veneration and love, 
 as if she were some sacred shrine committed to 
 my charge." 
 
 A slight irrepressible sneer curled Kamiro's 
 lip, for all enthusiasms are contemptible to 
 worldly men; but he was well learned in fine 
 words and phrases, and had sentiments enough 
 by rote. 
 
 "The mind of a pure girl," he said, "is indeed as 
 a saint in a shrine. Woe be to him who desecrates
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 151 
 
 it. We are accustomed to think of such things too 
 lightly in this land ; but jou have had foreign 
 education amongst the chivalrous lords of France, 
 in whom honour is an instinct, and I will fear- 
 lessly trust you to guard her on her journey 
 through the troubled country across which she 
 will have to pass." 
 
 " You may do so confidently, signor," replied 
 Lorenzo, in a bold tone; but then he seemed to 
 hesitate ; and raising himself on his arm, after a 
 moment's thought, he added, '' I hope, my lord, 
 you will not consider that I violate the trust 
 reposed in me, if perchance I should, in all 
 honor, plead my cause with her by the way. 
 Already I love her with an honourable and yet 
 a passionate love, and I must win her for my 
 wife if she is to be won. We are both very 
 young, it is too true; but that only gives me the 
 more time to gain her, if you do not oppose. As 
 for myself, I know I shall never change, and I 
 would lose neither time nor opportunity in woo- 
 ing her affections in return. I fear me, indeed," 
 he added, '' that I could not resist the occasion,
 
 152 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 were she to go forward under my guard, and 
 therefore I speak so plainly thus early." 
 
 He paused a moment, and then continued, 
 with an instinctive appreciation of the character 
 of him to whom he spoke, which all Eamiro^s 
 apparent disinterested kindness had not been 
 able to affect: 
 
 " What dower she may have, I know not, 
 neither do I care. I have enough for both, and 
 allied as I am to more than one royal house, 
 were I ambitious — and for her sake I may 
 become so — I could carve me a path which would 
 open out to me and mine high honours and ad- 
 vantages, unless I be a coward or a fool." 
 
 '' Well, well, good youth, we will talk more of 
 this another time," replied Eamiro d'Orco; 
 "you have done nobly and honestly to speak of 
 it, and it will only make me trust you more 
 implicitly. Coward you are none, as you have 
 shown this night, and fool you certainly are not. 
 You may want the guidance of some experience, 
 and if you be willing to listen to the counsel of 
 one who has seen more of life than you, I will show
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 153 
 
 you how to turn your great advantages to good 
 account. It might not be too vast a scope of 
 fancy to think of a Yisconti once more seated in 
 the chair of Milan. But I have news for you, 
 one of your comrades in arms has arrived dur- 
 ing the night, warned, it would seem, that some 
 harm was intended you." 
 
 ^' Who is he?" asked Lorenzo eagerly. 
 
 " Young Pierre de Terrail," answered Kamiro. 
 *' He seems a noble youth, and was much grieved 
 to hear that you were suffering. He has brought 
 some twenty men with him, whom we have 
 lodged commodiously ; but I would not suffer 
 him to come up while you were sleeping^ as un- 
 disturbed repose was most necessary to your 
 recovery." 
 
 Lorenzo expressed a strong wish to see liis 
 young comrade; and in a few minutes he, so 
 celebrated afterwards as the Chevalier Bayard, 
 was introduced. He was at this time a youth 
 of about eighteen years of age, who at first sight 
 appeared but slightly made, and formed more for 
 activity than strength. Closer observation, 
 
 H 5
 
 154 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 however, showed in the broad shoulders and 
 open chest, the thin flank, and long, powerful 
 limbs, the promise of that hardy vigor which he 
 afterwards displayed. 
 
 Lorenzo held out his hand to him with a 
 warm smile, saying, "Welcome, welcome, De 
 Terrail ! You find me here fit for nothing, while 
 there you are still in your armour, as a reproach 
 to me, I suppose, for not being ready to 
 march." 
 
 ''Not so, not so, Visconti," said the young 
 hero. " I did not know how soon you might 
 wake, or how soon I might have occasion to go 
 on to Pavia, and therefore I sat me down and 
 slept in my armour, like a lobster in his shell. 
 But how feel you now? Is the venom wholly 
 subdued?' 
 
 ''Yes, thanks to this noble lord," replied 
 Lorenzo. 
 
 " Nevertheless," rejoined Eamiro, " you will 
 need several days' repose before you can venture 
 to mount your horse. Any agitation of the blood 
 might prove fatal."
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 155 
 
 *'Why, he has just been named by the king 
 to the command of a troop in our band," 
 answered De Terrail; ''but we must manage 
 that for you, Visconti. We will take it turn and 
 turn about to order your company for you till 
 you are well." 
 
 " Nay, I do not intand to have that troop,'* 
 replied his young friend. " It is yours of right, 
 Terrail. You entered full three months before 
 me ; and I will not consent to be put over your 
 head." 
 
 "I will have none of it," answered the young 
 Bayard. " It is the king's own will, Visconti; 
 and we must obey without grumbling. Besides, 
 do you think I will rob a man of his post while 
 he is suffering on my account?" 
 
 " How am I suffering on your account ?" asked 
 Visconti. '' What had you to do with mj 
 wound ?" 
 
 '' Do you not know that I struck this big fellow 
 in the castle court at Milan because he was 
 insolent?" said Bayard. " He vowed he would 
 kill me before the week was out, and, depend
 
 156 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 upon it, he mistook you for me. He knew I was 
 coming hither, and thought I was coming alone; 
 for at first the king ordered me to carry you 
 the news of your nomination, but he afterward 
 changed his mind, and sent it by the trumpet 
 who was going to Pavia. He might not have 
 killed me as easily as he thought; but he met a 
 still worse playfellow in you, for you killed him 
 instead. You were alway s exceedingly skilful 
 with rapier and dagger, though I think I am 
 your equal with the lance." 
 
 " Oh ! superior far," answered Lorenzo. '• So 
 he is dead, is he? I have but a confused notion 
 of all that took place last night. I only know 
 that he attacked me like a wild beast, and I had 
 not even time to draw my dagger." 
 
 " Ay ! dead enough," replied De Terrail. " I 
 had a look at him as he lies below in the hall, 
 and a more fell visage I never saw on a corpse. 
 Your sword went clear through him, from the 
 rif^ht side to the left; and you only gave him 
 what he well merited — the murderous scoundrel, 
 to poison his weapons !"
 
 157 
 
 " That is a practice which sometimes must be 
 had resort to, when men serA^e great princes," 
 observed Eamiro, with a quiet smile, " but in a 
 private quarrel it is base.'* 
 
 " Ay, base enough any way,'* replied the 
 young Bayard. '' However, you have rid me 
 of an enemy and the world of an assassin, 
 Lorenzo, and I hope you will not suffer long. 
 But there, tlie day is coming up in the east, and 
 I must on to Pavia presently. I had orders 
 last night to ride early this morning and mark 
 out our quarters; but when your good fellow 
 there gave us news of your danger, I came on, 
 by De Yitry's order, to see if we could defend 
 you." 
 
 " If you will wait but hjdf an hour, and break' 
 your fast with us in the hall," said Ramiro 
 d'Orco, " I will ride on with you, and take ad- 
 vantage of the escort of your men-at-arms, 
 Signor de Terrail." 
 
 "Willingly," answered the other; "some 
 breakfast were no bad thing; for, good faith! we 
 supped lightly last night. But I will go and
 
 158 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 see that all is ready for departure when we have 
 done our meal.*' 
 
 He quitted the room, and Ramira d'Orco soon 
 after followed, promising to see his patient again 
 before he departed for the South. 
 
 Left alone with his young lord, Antonio 
 drew nearer, and, bending down his head, said, 
 " I wonder, signor, what charm you have used 
 upon the Signor d'Orco to make his hard iron as 
 soft as soap. Why, he is the picture of tender- 
 ness — Mercy weeping over the guilt of sinners 
 — a lineal descendant from the good Samaritan, 
 or of that gentleman from whom the Frangipani 
 are descended, or some other of the charitable 
 heroes of antiquity. He was never known to 
 'shed a tear that was not produced by something 
 that tickled his nose, or to laugh except when 
 he saw the grimaces of a man broken on the 
 wheel." 
 
 '^ Hush, hush !" said Lorenzo ; '' to me he has 
 been very kind, and I must judge of people as I 
 find them." 
 
 " Ay, sir, judge when you know them well,"
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 159 
 
 answered Antonio. " Your pardon, excellent 
 lord; but hear a word or two more He who 
 was more than a father to you, placed me near 
 you to serve you, not only with my limbs, but 
 with my tongue — in the way of counsel, I mean. 
 This man has benefited you. Be grateful to him; 
 but be not the less on your guard. Give him no 
 power over you, lest he should abuse it. The 
 smallest secret in the keeping of a wicked man 
 is a sword over the head of him who trusted 
 him. If we lock up our own money, how much 
 more should we lock up our thoughts. I have 
 seen a mountebank's pig walk upon his hind 
 legs; but I never saw one that could do it long 
 at a time. If you wait and watch, cunning will 
 always show itself in its true colors. The face 
 of a man's nature is always too big for any mask 
 he can buy, and some feature will always be un- 
 covered by which you can know the man. No 
 one can cover his whole person with a veil; and 
 if you cannot judge by the face, you can find 
 him out by the feet." 
 
 '' Well, well," said Lorenzo, somewhat impa-
 
 160 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 tiently; ''open that window wide, Antonio. My 
 head aches, and I feel half suffocated. Then 
 just smooth my bed, and put out that winking 
 lamp. I should not have my chamber look like 
 the room of an hospital." 
 
 Quick to comprehend, Antonio did not only 
 what Lorenzo ordered, but much more, and set 
 himself busily to give an air of trim neatness to 
 the apartment, removing his master's bloody 
 clothing which v/as lying on the ground, and 
 placing on a stool clean linen and a new suit, 
 but taking care to move neither the sword nor the 
 arms, which had been cast negligently on the 
 table. There was something picturesque in their 
 arrangement that suited his fancy, and he let 
 them remain. But in the course of his perquisi- 
 tions he came to the silver flagon which had 
 been brought by the page, and, after smelling to 
 it, he asked, " Why, what is this ''" 
 
 " Nay, I only know that it kept up my strength 
 when I felt as if each moment I should die," an- 
 swered Lorenzo. " I do not think even the an- 
 tidote he applied to my arm would have been
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 161 
 
 sufficient to save me but for its aid; the poison 
 was so potent." 
 
 "Doubtless," replied Antonio; " but it gives 
 me a secret how to accelerate your cure, my 
 good lord. — A wet napkin round his head will 
 take off the head-ache, at all events," he mut- 
 tered to himself; "but not just yet. Better let 
 these men depart first." 
 
 " Now, Antonio, sit down and tell me all that 
 has befallen since I sent you to Milan," said 
 Lorenzo. " Did you find the small picture of 
 my mother where old Beatrice told me it would 
 be found?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord; but the case was much 
 broken," replied Antonio. " Here it is." 
 
 As he spoke, he produced one of those minia- 
 ture portraits which sometimes even the most 
 celebrated artists of the day were pleased to 
 paint, and handed it to Lorenzo. It was fixed 
 in an embossed case of gilded brass; but as the 
 man had said, the back of the case had been 
 apparently forced sharply open, so as to break 
 the springlock and one of the hinges.
 
 162 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 Lorenzo took it, and, raising himself on his 
 elbow, gazed at the features of a very lovely 
 woman which the picture represented. 
 
 '' And this was my mother !" he murmured, 
 after looking at it for a long time ; and then he 
 added, in a still lower tone, " Vengeance is mine, 
 saith the Lord !" 
 
 He then turned the portrait, drew off the di- 
 lapidated back of the case, and read some words 
 which were written round a small oval box form- 
 ing part of the frame, but concealed by the case 
 whenit was closed. 
 
 "A cure for the ills of life!" were the words; 
 and. lifting the lid of the box, he beheld several 
 small papers, containing some substance within 
 them, discolored by age. 
 
 *' Know you what these are?" he asked of 
 Antonio. 
 
 ''No, my lord," replied the man; "poison, I 
 suppose, as death is ' the only cure for all the ills 
 of life.' " 
 
 " Eight !" replied Lorenzo, musing, " right ! 
 He told rae she had only escaped dishonour by 
 death."
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 163 
 
 " Av, my good young lord, I can tell you more 
 of it," answered Antonio. "You were a baby 
 then ; but I am well-nigh fifteen years older, and 
 1 remember it all right well. I was then in 
 Milan, and — " 
 
 He had not time to finish the sentence ere 
 Eamira D'Orco entered the room, followed by 
 Bianca Maria and Leonora. The expression of 
 the countenance of each of the two girls was 
 somewhat significant of their characters. Blanche 
 Marie gazed, shrinking and timid, round the 
 room, as if she expected to behold some ghastly 
 spectacle, till her eyes lighted upon Lorenzo, and 
 then a glad smile spread over her whole face. 
 Leonora looked straight on, her eyes fixing upon 
 her wounded lover at once, as if divining rather 
 than seeing where he lay; and, walking straight 
 to his bedside, she took the chair nearest, as if 
 of right. 
 
 " I have brought you two nurses, Lorenzo,'* 
 said Eamiro ; " they will give their whole care to 
 you, and you will soon be well. But you must 
 promise me, in honor of the skill which has saved
 
 164 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 your life, that you will not hazard it by attempt- 
 ing any exercise for several days." 
 
 " I will not," answered Lorenzo, " unless the 
 king's orders especially require my service. Of 
 course, if they do, his orders must be obeyed." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," replied the other; 
 " but those orders will not come. He shall hear 
 how near death you have been, and of course 
 will be considerate. But now farewell. I must 
 go join Monsieur de Terrail. You shall hear 
 from me, when I reach Bologna, concerning 
 what was spoken of. Till then, I leave you in 
 kind and tender hands." 
 
 Thus saying, he bade him adieu and left him; 
 and Antonio followed, judging perhaps that Lo- 
 renzo's two fair companions would afford attend- 
 ance enough.
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 165 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "Who Times gallops withal!" Alas! dear 
 Rosalind, you might have found a sweeter 
 illustration than that which you give. Doubt- 
 less "he gallops with a thief to the gallows," 
 but, I fear me, impatient joy and reluctant fear, 
 like most opposites in the circle of all things, 
 meet and blend into each other. Time gallops 
 full as fast when he carries along two lovers, and 
 between the hours of meeting and parting his 
 pace is certainly of the quickest. 
 
 Never, perhaps, did he travel so fast as with 
 Leonora and Lorenzo. Their feelings were so 
 new; they were so eager and so warm; they 
 were so full of youth and youth's impetuous
 
 166 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 fire, that — smouldering as love had been for 
 the last ten days, unseen even by their own 
 eyes, and only lighted into a blaze by the events 
 of the night before — we might pursue the image 
 of a great conflagration, and say, both were 
 confused and dazzled by the light, and hardly 
 felt or knew the rapid passing of the quick- 
 winged moments. 
 
 Blanche Marie might perhaps have estimated 
 tlie passage of time more justly; for the un- 
 happy third person — however he may love the 
 two others, and whatever interest he may feel in 
 their happiness — has, after all, but a sorry and 
 a tedious part to play; and, although the fairer 
 and the milder of the two girls was not yet 
 more than fourteen, she might long — while she 
 sat there, silent, and striving not to listen to the 
 murmured words of the two lovers — she might 
 long for the day when her happy hour would 
 come, and when the whole hearf s treasury would 
 be opened for her to pick out its brightest gems. 
 Nay, perhaps I might go even a little farther, 
 and remind the reader that life's earlier stage
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 167 
 
 is shorter in Italy than in most other European 
 countries; that the olive and the orange ripen 
 fast ; and that the fruits of the heart soon reach 
 maturity in that land. Juliet — all Italian, im- 
 passioned Juliet — was not yet fourteen — not till 
 '' Lammas Eve" — when the consuming fire took 
 possession of her heart, and Lady Capulet her- 
 self was a mother almost at the years of Blanche 
 Marie. 
 
 But it is an hour — that at which she had now 
 arrived in life's short day — it is an hour of 
 dreams and fairy forms, in the faint, vapory 
 twilight which lies between the dawn and the 
 full day, when the rising sun paints every mist 
 with gold and rose-color, and through the very 
 air of young existence spreads a purple light. 
 The tears of that sweet time are but as early 
 dew-drops brightened into jewels by the light of 
 youthful hope, and the onward look of coming 
 years, though kindled with the first beams of 
 passion, knows not the fiery heat of noon, nor 
 can conceive the arid dryness of satiety. 
 
 Blanche Marie sat and dreamed near her two
 
 168 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 cousins. At first, she heard some of the words 
 they spoke; but then she listened more to the 
 speakers in her own heart; and then she gave 
 herself up to visions of the future ; and ihe out- 
 ward creature remained but a fair, motionless 
 statue, unconscious of aught that passed around 
 her, but full of light and ever- varying fancies. 
 
 How passed the time none of the three knew, 
 but it passed rapidly, and Bianca was awakened 
 from her reveries by the sound of a strange voice, 
 saying, "Pardon, sweet lady," as some one passed 
 her, brushing lightly against her garments, which 
 he could not avoid touching, on his way to Lo- 
 renzo's bedside. 
 
 " Why, how now, Yisconti !" exclaimed the 
 new-comer. "What! made a leader, assaulted 
 by an assassin, wounded with a poisoned weapon, 
 vanquisher in the fight, saved by a miracle, and 
 nursed by two beautiful ladies — all in twenty- 
 four hours ! By my fay, thou art a favored child 
 of chivalry indeed!" 
 
 Blanche Marie looked round at the speaker, 
 roused from her reverie suddenly but not unpleas-
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 169 
 
 antly. There was something joyous, light- 
 hearted, and musical in the voice that spoke, 
 which won favor by its very tone. Oh ! there 
 is a magic in the voice, of which we take not ac- 
 count enough. Have you not often marked, 
 reader, how one man in a mixed company will 
 win attention in an instant, not by the matter of 
 his words, not by the manner, but by the mere 
 tone in which they are spoken ? Have you not 
 sometimes seen two men striving to gain the ear 
 of a fair lady, and eloquence, and sense, and wit 
 all fail, while sweet tones only have prevailed? 
 The eye and the ear are but sentries on guard, 
 and the fair form and the sweet tone are but as 
 passwords to the camp. Nay, more : some voices 
 have their peculiar harmonies with the hearts of 
 individuals. One will have no sweetness in its 
 tone to many, while to another it will be all 
 melody ; and all this is no strange phenomenon ; 
 it is quite natural, that it should be so. Where 
 is the man to whom the owlet is as sweet a 
 songster as the lark ? and who can pass the night- 
 ingale on his spray, though he may not pause a 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 LEONORA d'OUCO. 
 
 moment by the gaudy ptiroquet? The blackbird's 
 sweet, round pipe, the tlirush's evening welcome 
 to the approaching spring, tlie lark's rejoicing 
 fugue in the blue sky, are all sweet to well- tuned 
 ears; but each finds readier access to some 
 hearts than to others. 
 
 The voice which awoke Bianca Maria from her 
 reverie \vas very pleasant to her ear. There was 
 an unaffected frankness in it — as if welling up 
 clear from the heart — wliicli was prepossessing 
 to a pure, young, innocent mind like hers. 
 
 '' Ah ! Signer De ^' itry," replied Lorenzo, " I 
 have, indeed, had good fortune in many ways; 
 and I suppose I ought in common gratitude to 
 Heaven, to think it all unmixed good. But I 
 have somewhat suffered in body, and now I am 
 troubled to think what is to become of my troop 
 while I lie here useless. I would the king would 
 bestow it upon Do Terr ail, and let me have 
 another chance." 
 
 " Think not of it," answered De Vitry ; " we 
 will arrange all tlings for you. Bayard is a 
 noble fellow, vho will win high fame some day,
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 171 
 
 but we must obey the king. I find De Terrail 
 has been here, and suppose you have seen him, 
 for they tell me he went on two hours ago." 
 
 "Two hours!" exclaimed Lorenzo: " hardlv 
 so much I thin\." 
 
 " Ay ! time flies fast under bright eyes," an- 
 swered De Yitry, with a hi;igh. '' Two hours 
 the servants below tell me, and no less. However, 
 I must on my way. I only stopped to enquire 
 what had happened, for no news had reached me 
 when I marched; and I found a prisoner below 
 whom Bayard left for me — a man who waited 
 without, it seems, while Monsieur Buondoni 
 busied himself with you within. I had three 
 others of the villains in my power before, but 
 they do not seem to be as deep in their master*s 
 secrets as this gentleman. But my provost 
 must have finished the work T gave him by this 
 time, and so I must* on. Your pardon, sweet 
 young lady, will you give mt) leave just to look 
 forth from this window?' 
 
 He passed Blanche Marie with a courteous 
 inclination of the head, and gazed forth toward 
 
 I 2
 
 172 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 the high road, and then, turning to Lorenzo, 
 added : 
 
 "Ay, it is all right. Farewell for the present, 
 Yisconti. Rest quietly till you are quite well. 
 We shall halt at Pavia for two or three days till 
 the king comes on, and then probably for some 
 days more. But I will come and see you 
 from time to time, and we will make all need- 
 ful arrangements. Shall I be welcome, sweet 
 lady?" 
 
 " Oh, right welcome, noble, sir," replied 
 Bianca Maria, to whom his words were ad- 
 dressed ; " but you must not go without tasting 
 some refreshment, and you must see the Count 
 Rovera, my grandsire." 
 
 " Nay, I have but little time," answered De 
 Yitry ; " and yet a cup of wine from such fair 
 hands were mightily refreshing after a dusty ride. 
 Your grandsire I will see when I am in a more fit- 
 ting attire. 'Tis but six miles to Pavia,! am told; 
 and I will soon ride over ^again, were it but to 
 make excuse t » the old count for hanging an 
 assassin just before his gates. However, it may
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 173 
 
 chance to warn others of the same cloth to ven- 
 ture here no more." 
 
 Bianca Llaria's cheek turned somewhat pale, 
 and she suddenly turned her eyes in the direc- 
 tion toward which De Yitry had been looking 
 from the window a moment or two before. There 
 was a dark object hanging among the bare 
 branches < f a mulberry tree long divested of 
 its leaves. She could not exactly distinguish 
 what that object was, but she divined; 
 and turning away with a shudder, she mur- 
 mured : 
 
 " For Heaven's sake my lord, have him cut 
 down." 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it," replied De Yitry ; 
 " but, dear lady, it is needful to punish such vil- 
 lains, or we should soon have but few of our 
 French nobles, or those who hold with us, left 
 alive. However, there can be no great harm in 
 cutting him down now, for my provost does not 
 do any such things by halves." 
 
 He took a step to. ard the door, and then
 
 174 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 paused for a moment, as if not quite certain of 
 the fair young girl's wishes. 
 
 " You know, I suppose," he said, in a tone of 
 an enquiry, " that this man whom they iiave just 
 hanged, is one of those who came to assassinate 
 Signor Visconti here?" 
 
 " My cousin has avenged himself in defending 
 himself," answered Bianca Maria. " I am sure 
 he does not wish any others to suffer." 
 
 ^' Well," answered De Yitry with a laugh; "I 
 thought myself mightily compassionate that I 
 did not hang the other three, as, I dare say, they 
 all well deserved; but this fellow was caught 
 waiting for Buondoni, and was, we found, in the 
 whole secret. However, we will have him cut 
 down, if such ■ e your pleasure." 
 
 " Oh, pray do, my lord — pray do, at once!" 
 cried Bianca; ''perhaps there may be life in 
 him yet." 
 
 "Now Heaven forbid!" cried De Vitry; "but 
 come with me, sweet lady, and you shall hear the 
 order given instantly. Adieu, Visconti ! Fara
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 175 
 
 well, beautiful lady with the dark eyes! You 
 have not bestowed one word upon me; but, 
 nevertheless, I kiss your hand." 
 
 Thus saying, he left the room with Bhmche 
 M Tie, who led !iim by a staircase somewhat 
 distant from that which conducted to the great 
 hall, where the body of Buondoni still lay, to a 
 vestibule, where sev -ral of the marquis's attend- 
 ants were waiting. There the orders which 
 De Yitry had promised, were soon given, and a 
 cup of wine was brought for his refreshment. 
 He lingered over it for a longer space of time 
 than he had intended, and while he did so, he 
 contrived to w^ile Bianca Maria's thoughts awav 
 from the event that had saddened them. Indeed, 
 though the young girl was less light and vola- 
 tile than she seemed to be, and many of her age 
 really were, he effected his object — if it was an 
 object — far more readily than could have been 
 supposed. There was something in his nuinner 
 toward her which amused and yet teased her, 
 which pleased but did not frighten her. Tliere 
 was a certain touch of gallantry in it, and evi-
 
 176 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 dently no small portion of admiration ; and yet 
 it was clear he looked upon her as a child, and 
 that in all his civil speeches there was at least 
 as much jest as earnest. Nevertheless, every 
 now and then there was a serious tone which fell 
 pleasantly upon the young girl's ear, and was 
 thought of in after hours. 
 
 '' I trust the count will soon be here," she 
 said, at length ; " you had better stay, Signor de 
 Vitry, and see him. He sat up during the greater 
 part of the night, I am told, anxious about my 
 cousin. But he must rise soon." 
 
 " My sweet lady,'' answered the soldier, " I 
 must not stay. I have two — nay, three good 
 reasons for going: first, that a beautiful young 
 lady has already beguiled me to stay longer than 
 I should ; secondly, that a pleasant old gentle- 
 man might beguile me to stay still longer; and, 
 thirdly, that, as I intend to come back again 
 often, I must husband excuses for my visits, and 
 one shall be to see the count, and to apologize 
 in person for acting high justiciary upon his 
 lands. You have forgiven me already, I think,
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 177 
 
 else there is no truth in those blue eyes; and so 
 I kiss your hand, and promise to behave better 
 when next I come.'' 
 
 Blanche Marie had ample matter for medita- 
 tion during the rest of that day, at least. 
 
 I 5
 
 178 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 In those days, as in the present, there was 
 situated, somewhere or other in the garden, 
 farm, or podere of every Italian villa, some- 
 times hid among the fig-trees, olives, or mulber- 
 ries, sometimes planted close to one of the gates 
 of the inclosing walls, a neat farm-house, the 
 abode of the contadino, who dwelt there usually 
 in much more happiness and security than at- 
 tended his lords and masters in their more 
 magnificent abodes. It is true that occasionally 
 a little violence might be brought down upon the 
 heads of the family, by any extraordinary beauty 
 in a daughter or a niece, or any very ferocious 
 virtue upon the parents' part; but sooth to say,
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 179 
 
 I fear me much that, since the times of Virginias, 
 Italian fathers have not looked with very severe 
 eyes upon affairs of gallantry between their 
 daughters and men of elevated station, nor 
 have the young ladies themselves been very 
 scrupulous in accepting the attentions of well- 
 born cavaliers. The inconveniences resulting 
 from such adventures apart, the life of an 
 Italian peasant was far more safe and far more 
 happy in those days than the life of a noble or 
 a citizen, and Sismondi has justly pointed out 
 that they were more contented with their lot, 
 and had more cause for content, than any other 
 class in the land. No very heavy exactions 
 pressed upon them; their lords were generally 
 just, and even generous; and it rarely happened 
 that they saw their harvests wasted even by the 
 wandering bands, whose leaders wisely remem- 
 bered that they and their soldiers must depenJ 
 upon those harvests for support. 
 
 The house of a contadino has less changed 
 than almost any other building in Italy. There 
 was always a certain degree of taste displayed
 
 180 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 in its construction, and there was always one 
 room a good deal larger than any of the rest, 
 with plenty of air blowing through it, to which, 
 when the sun shone too strongly under the porch, 
 any of the family could Retire per pigliar la 
 jresca. It was in this large room at the farm, 
 in the gardens of the villa that, at an early hour 
 of the day which succeeded the death of Buon- 
 doni, a strange sight might be seen. The door 
 was locked and barred, and from time to time 
 each of those within — and there were several — 
 turned a somewhat anxious, fearful look towards 
 it or to the windows, as if they were engaged in 
 some act for which they desired no witnesses. 
 Two women, an old and a young one, stood at 
 the head of a long table ; a second girl was seen 
 at the side ; a young man was near the other 
 end, holding a large, heavy bucket in his hand ; 
 and at some distance from all the rest, with his 
 arms folded on his chest and somewhat gloomy 
 disapproving brow, was the contadino himself, 
 gazing at what the others were about, but taking 
 no part therein himself.
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 181 
 
 The object, however, of most interest lay upon 
 the table. It was apparently the corpse of a 
 man from thirty-five to forty years of age, 
 dressed in the garb of a retainer of some noble 
 house. His long black hair flowed wildly from 
 his head, partly soiled with dust, partly steeped 
 with water. His dress also was \^et, and the 
 collar of his coat as well as that of his vest 
 seemed to have been torn rudely open. He had 
 apparently died a violent death : the face was of 
 a dark waxen yellow, and the tongue, which 
 protuded from the mouth, had been bitten in 
 violent agony between the teeth. Kound his 
 neck, and extending upwards towards the left 
 ear, was a dark red mark, significant of the 
 manner of his death. 
 
 " Here, Giulio, here !" cried the elder woman, 
 " pour the water over him again. His eyes roll 
 in his head. He is coming to !" 
 
 " Ah, Marie ! what a face he makes," ex- 
 claimed one of the girls, shutting out the sight 
 with her hands. 
 
 "Poor fools! you will do more harm than
 
 182 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 good," raurmured the contadino; "let the man 
 pass in peace ! I wouhl sooner spend twenty lire 
 in masses for his soul than bring him back to 
 trouble the world any more." 
 
 '' Would you have us act like tigers or devils, 
 you old iniquity?" asked his wife, shaking three 
 fingers at him. " The life is in the poor man 
 yet. Shall we let him go out of the world with- 
 out unction or confession, for fear of what these 
 French heretics may do to us?" 
 
 " Besides, Madonna Bianca had him cut down 
 to save his life," cried the girl who stood nearest 
 his head. " You would fain please her, I trow, 
 father. I heard her myself pray for him to be 
 cut down, and she will be glad to hear we have 
 recovered him. It was that which made me run 
 away for Giulio as soon as the order was given." 
 
 While this dialogue was going on, the young 
 man, Giulio, had poured the whole bucket of 
 water over the recumbent body on the table, 
 dashing it on with a force which might well have 
 driven the soul out of a living man, but which, on 
 this occasion, seemed to have the very opposite
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 183 
 
 effect of bringing spirit into a dead one. Sud- 
 denly the eyelids closed over the staring eyes; 
 there was a shudder passed over the Avhole 
 frame; the fingers seeraed to grasp at some fan- 
 cied object on the table, and at length respira- 
 tion returned, at first in fitful gasps, but soon 
 with regular and even quiet action. The eyes 
 then opened again, and turned from face to face 
 with some degree of consciousness; but they 
 closed again after a niomentary glance around, 
 and he fell into what seemed a heavy sleep, dis- 
 tinguished from that still heavier sleep into 
 which he had lately lain by the equable heaving 
 of the chest. 
 
 I he mother and the two girls looked on re- 
 joi(iing, and Giulio, too, had a well-satisfied look, 
 for such are the powers of that wonderful quality 
 called vanity, that as it was under his hand the 
 man recovered, he attributed his resuscitation en- 
 tirely to his own skill; and had his patient been 
 the devil himself come to plague him and all the 
 world, good Giulio would have glorified himself 
 upon the triumph of his exertions. And well he
 
 184 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 might; for, unfortunately, as this world goes, 
 men glory as much over their success in bad as 
 in good actions, judging not the merit of deeds 
 by their consequences, even where those conse- 
 quences are self-evident. Success, success is all 
 that the world esteems. It is the gold that will 
 not tarnish — the diamond whose lustre no breath 
 can dim. 
 
 The old contadino, however, was even less 
 pleased with the result of his family's efforts 
 than he had been with the efforts themselves. 
 
 " Satan will owe us something," he muttered, 
 " for snatching from him one of his own, and he 
 is a gentleman who always pays his debts. By 
 my faith, I will go up and tell the count what 
 has chanced. I do not choose to be blamed for 
 these women's mad folly. Better let him know 
 at once, while the fellow is in such a state that 
 a pillow over his mouth will soon put out the 
 lighted flame they have lighted in him — if my 
 lord pleases." 
 
 " What are you murmuring there, you old 
 hyena?" asked his gentle wife.
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 185 
 
 ''• Oil, nothing, nothing, good dame," replied 
 the husband ; " 'twas only the fellow's grimaces 
 made me sick, and I must out into the podere. 
 C — e ! I did not think you would have succeeded 
 so well with the poor devil. I hope he'll soon 
 be able to jog away from here ; for, though he may 
 move and talk again — and I dare say he will — 
 I shall always look upon him as a dead man, 
 notwithstanding. Suppose, now, that it should 
 not be his own soul that has come back into him, 
 wife, but some bad spirit, that all your working 
 and water — I am sure it was not holy water — 
 has brought back into his poor miserable 
 corpse !" 
 
 " Jesu Maria ! do not put such thoughts into 
 my head, Giovanozzo," exclaimed the old lady 
 with a look of horror; "but that cannot be 
 either, for I made Giulio put some salt into the 
 water, and the devil can never stand that; so go 
 along with you. You cannot frighten me. Go 
 and try to get back your senses, for you seem to 
 have lost them, good man." 
 
 The contadino was glad to get away unques-
 
 186 LEONORA D*ORCO. 
 
 tioned ; and. unlocking the door, he issued forth 
 fiom his house. At first he did not turn his 
 steps toward the villa, but took a path which led 
 down to the river. At the distance of some 
 hundred or hundred and fifty yards, however, 
 where the trees screened him from his own 
 dwelling, he looked round to see that none of his 
 family followed, and then turned directly up the 
 little rise. When near the terrace, he saw a 
 man coming down the steps toward him, and 
 suddenly paused; but a moment's observation 
 showed him that he need have no alarm. The 
 person who approached was no other than An- 
 tonio, between whom and the good peasant, a 
 considerable intimacy had sprung up since 
 Lorenzo Yisconti had been at the Villa Rovera. 
 Would you taste the best wine on an estate, or 
 eat the sweetest fig of the season, make friends 
 with the contadino and his family; and, perhaps 
 acting on this maxim, Antonio had often been 
 down to pass an hour or two with Giovanozzo, 
 and enliven the whole household with his jests. 
 " The very man," said the contadino to him-
 
 187 
 
 self; '•'■ he'll tell me just what I ought to do. He 
 has travelled, and seen all manners of things. 
 He is just the person. Signor Antonio, good 
 morning to your excellency! What is in the 
 wind to day?" 
 
 " Nothing but a strong scent of dead carrion 
 that I cm smell," answered Antonio. 
 
 " Well," said the contadino, with a grin, '' I 
 do not wonder; for there's carrion down at our 
 house, a:id the worst carrion a man can think of, 
 for itis not only dead carrion, butlivecarrion, too.'* 
 
 ''Alive with maggots. I take you," answered 
 Antonio; "that is a shallow conceit, Giovanozzo. 
 It hardly needs an ell yard to plumb that." 
 
 " Nay, nay, you are not at the bottom of it 
 yet," replied the peasant; " it is alive and dead, 
 and yet no maggots in it." 
 
 " Then the maggots are in thy brain," an- 
 swered Antonio. "• But speak plainly man, 
 speak plainly. If you keep hammering my head 
 with enigmas, I shall have no brains left to un- 
 derstand your real meaning'"
 
 188 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 " Well, then, signor, " said the contadino, 
 gravely, ''I want advice." 
 
 " And, like a wise man, come to me," replied 
 his companion ; "mine is the very shop to find it ; 
 I have plenty always on hand for my customers, 
 never using any of it myself, and receiving it 
 fresh daily from those who have it to spare. 
 What sort of advice will you have, Giovanozzo? 
 the advice interested or disinterested — the advice 
 fraternal or paternal — the advice minatory, or 
 monitory, or consolatory — the advice cynical or 
 philosophical?" 
 
 " Nay, but this is a serious matter, signor," 
 answered the contadino. 
 
 " Then you shall have serious advice," an- 
 swered Antonio. " Proceed. Lay the case before 
 me in such figures as may best suit its condition, 
 and I will try and fit my advice thereunto as tight 
 as a jerkin made by a tailor who loves cabbage 
 more than may consist with the ease of his cus- 
 tomers." 
 
 " Well, let us sit down on this bank," said Gio-
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 189 
 
 vanozzo, "for it is a matter which requires 
 much consideration and — " 
 
 " Like a hen's egg requires to be sat upon," 
 interrupted Antonio. " Well, in this also I will 
 gratify you, signor. Now to your tale." 
 
 " Why, you must know," proceeded the conta- 
 dino, " that this morning, an hour or two ago, 
 just when I was coming up from the well, I saw 
 Judita and Margarita, with Giulio, carrying 
 something heavy into the house. It took all their 
 strength, I can tell you, though the man was not 
 a big man, after all." 
 
 " A man !" exclaimed Antonio; '' was it a man 
 they were carrying?" 
 
 " Nothing short of a man," replied Giovanozzo. 
 
 '' And yet a short man too," said Antonio. 
 " Was he a dead man?" 
 
 "Yes and no," replied the peasant; "he was 
 dead then, but he is alive now. But just listen 
 signor. It seems that a whole troop of these 
 Frenchmen came down this way at an early hour, 
 on their way to Pavia, and that they halted at 
 the gates; but before they halted, they saw a
 
 190 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 man on horseback, standing at the little turn- 
 down to Signor Manini's podere; and that, as 
 soon as he saw them, he tried to spur away, but 
 their spurs were sharper than his; so they caught 
 him and brought him back. Then, some hours 
 after, up comes another party, and they held a 
 sort of council over him, and confronted him 
 with two or three other prisoners, and then 
 strung him up to the branch of the great mul- 
 berry-tree. But presently some one came out of 
 the villa and ordered him to be cut down, and 
 as soon as that was done they all rode away, 
 leaving him there lying on the road. That is 
 what Giulio told me, for he was looking over the 
 wall all the time." 
 
 " Dangerous peeping, Signor Giovanozzo," 
 said Antonio solemnly ; " but what did the lad 
 do then?" 
 
 " Why, he would have let him lie quiet 
 enough, if he had had his own way," replied the 
 contadino, " for Giulio is a discreet youth. He 
 takes after me in the main, and knows when to 
 let well enough alone, when his mother and his
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 191 
 
 sisters are not at his heels; but the good wadre 
 you know — " and here he added a significant 
 grimace, which finished the sentence. " How- 
 ever," he continued, '' Margarita, who is tiring- 
 w^oman to the young contessa, came running out 
 of the villa, and told Giulio that it was Bianca 
 Maria's orders to see if there was any life in the 
 man, and try to save him. So they looked at 
 him together, and fancied they saw his face 
 twitch, and then they called Judita and carried 
 him down into the house." 
 
 " And then ?" asked Antonio. 
 
 " Why, then they sluiced him with cold water, 
 and poured Heaven knows what all down his 
 throat, or into his mouth, at least." 
 
 "And then?'* said Antonio again. 
 
 " Why, then he began to wake up," replied 
 the contadino," "and now he is snoring on a table 
 down below, and I dare say he will be all the 
 better for his hanging." 
 
 " He might have been so, if Giulio had not 
 been too near," answered Antonio, drily, and 
 then fell into a fit of thought.
 
 192 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 " I am sure the devil has something to do with 
 it," said Giovanozzo, in an inquiring tone. 
 
 " Beyond doubt," replied Antonio, solemnly, 
 " but whether in the hanging or the re'iascita- 
 tion, who shall say? However, I will go down 
 and see the gentleman. Do you know who he 
 is?" 
 
 " One of Signor Buondoni's men. I fancy," re- 
 plied the peasant. " We hear the signor was 
 killed last night on the terrace, and I was think- 
 ing to come up and see the corpse. He must lay 
 out handsomely, for he was a fine-looking man. 
 I saw him by the moonlight just when he came 
 to the gates yester-evening. I hope you do not 
 think our people will be blamed by the old count 
 for whatever we have done." 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Antonio, " you have done 
 right well ; though, if you had killed the one and 
 not saved the other, you might have done better. 
 Now let us go down to your house." 
 
 They walked some hundred yards in silence, 
 and then Antonio said abruptly, " I wonder what 
 is the good man's name. One of my old play-
 
 LEONORA d'OKCO. 193 
 
 fellows was in Buondoni's service I hear. What 
 like is he, Giovan' ?" 
 
 " Why, he is little and thin," answered the 
 contadino, " with a big beard like a German's, 
 and a sharp face. His muzzle is much like a 
 hedgehog's, only he is as yellow as a lemon." 
 
 " That has to do with the hanging," answered 
 Antonio. " I have seen many a man hanged 
 when I was in France. The late king, who was 
 no way tender, did a good deal in that way, and 
 most of those he strung up were very yellow 
 when they were cut down. 1 should have 
 thought it would have turned them blue, but it 
 was not so. However, I think I know this gen- 
 tleman, and if so, must have a talk withhim 
 before he goes forth into the wicked world again. 
 I would fain warn him, as a friend, against bad 
 courses, whicl], though (as he must have found) 
 they often lead to elevated places, are sure to end 
 in a fall, and sometimes in a broken neck. But 
 here we are before your house, Giovanozzo, and 
 there goes Giulio, seeking you, I expect. Let 
 him go, man — let him go. I wish you would 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 send Margarita one way after him and Judita the 
 other, and then get up a little quarrel with your 
 amiable wife, for I must positively speak with 
 this gentleman alone, and may bestow some time 
 upon him.
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 By the side of a small bed, in a small room next 
 to the larger one of which I have already spoken 
 in noticing the usual arrangements of a conta- 
 dino's house, sat our friend Antonio, nearly an 
 hour after his meeting with Giovanozzo. The 
 same man who, some time before, had lain upon 
 the table in the adjoining chamber now occupied 
 the bed; but he was apparently sound asleep. 
 The contadino's Xantippe had informed her hus- 
 band, or rather Antonio, for whom she enter- 
 tained much higher veneration, that the " poor 
 soul," as she called Buondoni's retainer, had 
 awoke and spoken quite cheerfully, but that he 
 had now fallen into a more refreshing kind of 
 K 2
 
 196 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 slumber; and, anxious to busy herself about her 
 household affairs, she had willingly left hea' patient 
 to Antonio's care, upon being assured that they 
 were old companions. 
 
 Antonio, as the reader may have remarked, 
 had that curious habit, common to both sages 
 and simpletons, of occasionally giving vent to his 
 thoughts in words, even when there was no one 
 to listen to them — not in low tones, indeed, but 
 in low-muttered murmurs — not in regular and 
 unbroken soliloquy, but in fragments of sen- 
 tences, with lapses of silent meditation between. 
 
 "It is Mardocchi," he said; " it is Mardocchi 
 beyond all doubt. Mightily changed, indeed, he 
 is — but that scar cutting through the eyebrow. 
 I remember giving liim the wound that made it 
 with the palla." 
 
 He fell into silence again for a few minutes, 
 and then he murmured, " We used to say he 
 would be hanged. So he has fufilled his destiny, 
 and got off better than most men in similar cir- 
 cumstances." Here came another break, during 
 which the stream of thought ran on still; and
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 197 
 
 then he said, " Now let any one tell me whether 
 it was better for this man to be brought to life 
 again or not. His troubles in this life were all 
 over, he had taken the last hard gasp; the 
 agony, and the expectation, and the fear were all 
 done and over, and 'now they have all to come 
 over again, probably in the very same way too, 
 for he is certain to get into more mischief, and 
 deserve more hanging, and take a better hold of 
 Purgatory, even if he do not go farther still. He 
 never had but one good quality; he would keep 
 his word with you for good or ill against the 
 devil himself. He had a mighty stubborn will, 
 and once he had said a thing he would do it." 
 
 Here came another lapse, which lasted about 
 five minutes, and then Antonio murmured quite- 
 indistinctly, "I wonder if lie be really asleep! 
 He could feign any thing beautifully, and his 
 eyes seemed to give a sort of wink just now. We 
 will soon see." Some minutes of silence then 
 succeeded, and at length Antonio spoke aloud: 
 '' No," he said, as if coming to some fixed and 
 firm conclusion, " no; it would be better for him
 
 198 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 himself to die. The good woman did him a bad 
 service. These Frenchmen will hang him again 
 whenever they catch him, and if there be any in- 
 quiry into the death of Buondoni, they will put 
 him on the rack ; besides, we may all get our- 
 selves into trouble by conniving at his escape from 
 justice. Better finish it at once while he is asleep, 
 and before he half knows he has been brought to 
 life again." 
 
 He then unsheathed his dagger, which was 
 both long and broad, tried the point upon his 
 finger, and gazed at his companion. Still there 
 
 was no siorn of consciousness. The next moment 
 ... ' 
 
 however, Antonio rose, deliberately pushed back 
 
 his sleeve from his wrist, as if to prevent it from 
 
 being soiled with blood, and then raised the 
 
 dagger high over the slumbering man. 
 
 The instant he did so, Mardocchi started up, 
 and clasped his wrist, exclaiming, " Antonio 
 Biondi, ^hat would you do? kill your unhappy 
 friend?" 
 
 Antonio burst into a loud laugh, saying, 
 '*Oiily a new way of waking a sleeping man,
 
 LEONOEA d'ORCO. 199 
 
 Mardocchi. The truth is, I have no time to 
 wait till your shamming is over in the regular 
 course. We have matters of life and death to 
 talk of; and you must cast away all trick and 
 deceit, and act straightforwardly with me, that 
 we may act quickly ; your own life and safety 
 depend upon it. Now tell me, what did the 
 Lord of Vitry hang you for?" 
 
 " H's morning's sport, I fancy," answered the 
 man; '-but softly, good friend; you forget I 
 hardly know as yet whether I am of this world 
 or another. My senses are still all confused, and 
 you, Antonio — my old playmate — should have 
 some compassion on me." 
 
 " So I have, Mardocchi," answered Antonio; 
 "and, as these good people have brought you back 
 to life, I wish to save you from being sent out 
 of it again more quickly than you fancy." 
 
 "Where is the danger?" asked Mardocchi, 
 hesitating. 
 
 " That is just what I want to discover," said 
 the other; " not vaguely, not generally, but par- 
 ticularly, in every point. General dangers I can
 
 200 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 see plenty, but I must know all the particular 
 ones, in order to place you in safety. Do you 
 know that your lord, Buondoni, is dead?" 
 
 " Ay, so the good woman told me," replied the 
 other; "killed by that young cub of the Yis- 
 contis. Curses on him ! " 
 
 Antonio marked both the imprecation and the 
 expression of countenance with which it was 
 uttered ; but he did not follow the scent at once. 
 " Do you know at whose prayer you were cut 
 down?" he asked. 
 
 " They tell me at the instance of the Signorina 
 de Eovera," replied Mardocchi ; '' a young thing 
 I think she is. I saw her once, I believe, with 
 the Princess of Ferrara. If I live,^I will find some 
 way to repay her." 
 
 " Well, that is just the question," replied An- 
 tonio, "if you are to live or die? Hark you, 
 Mardocchi ! you must tell me all, if you would 
 have me save you." 
 
 "But can you, will you save me?" inquired 
 the man; "and yet why should I fear? The 
 Frenchmen cut me down themselves, lam told."
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 2i01 
 
 " Ay, but they are very likely to hang you up 
 again, if they find you out of sight of the pretty 
 lady who interceded for you. Nay, more, Mar- 
 docchi : all men believe that you were deep in the 
 secrets of Buondoni and of the Count Regent 
 through him. Now, as you know, the King of 
 France is ver^ likely to put you to the rack if he 
 finds you, to make you tell those secrets; and 
 your good friend Ludovic the Moor, is very 
 likely to strangle you, to make sure that you 
 keep them." 
 
 Mardocchi made no reply, for he knew there 
 was much truth in Antonio's words ; but, after a 
 moment's pause, the other proceeded, "You must 
 get out of Lombardy as fast as possible, my good 
 friend." 
 
 " But where can I go? what can I do?" asked 
 the unhappy man. " I have lost my only friend 
 and patron. I am known all through this part 
 of the country, I almost wish the women had let 
 me alone." 
 
 " It might have been better," said Antonio in 
 a meditative tone. '' ' Once for all' is a good 
 K 5
 
 202 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 proverb, Mardocchi. However, I think I could 
 help you if I liked ; I think I could get you out 
 of Lombardy, and into the Romagna, and find 
 you a good master, who wants just such a fellow 
 as yourself." 
 
 " Then do it ! do it !'^ cried Mardocchi, eagerly ; 
 " do it for old companionship ; do it, because, 
 for that old companionship, I have forgiven more 
 to you than I ever forgave to any other man. 
 Why should you not do it?" 
 
 " There is but one reason," answered Antonio, 
 gravely, " and that lies in your own words. 
 When you spoke of Lorenzo Visconti just now, 
 you called down curses upon him. Now he is my 
 lord and my friend. I was placed near him by 
 Lorenzo the Magnificent, and promised I would 
 always help and protect him. Do you think I 
 should be doing either if I aided to save a man 
 who would murder him the first opportunity? I 
 always keep my word, Mardocchi." 
 
 " And so do I," answered Mardocchi, gloomily. 
 " Sacchi and the rest told all they knew to the 
 Frenchman, out of fear for their pitiful lives, and
 
 LEONORA P'ORCO. 203 
 
 they saved themselves. I refused to tell any 
 thing, because I had promised not, and they 
 strung me up to the branch of a tn e. But I will 
 promise you, Antonio, I will never raise my 
 hand against the young man. 1 shall hate him 
 ever, but — " 
 
 " Let me think," said Antonio ; and, after 
 meditating for a moment, he added, " there are 
 ways of destroying him without raising your hand 
 against him : there is poison — there is the cord. 
 Listen to my resolution, Mardocchi, and you know 
 I will keep it : If you will promise me not to take 
 his life in any way — for I know you right well — 
 I will help you, for old companionship, to escape, 
 and to join a noble lord in the Romagna; but, if 
 you do not promise, I will make sure of you by 
 other means. I have but to speak a word, and 
 you are on the branch of the mulberry- tree 
 again — " 
 
 "Stop, stop!" said Mardocchi ; "do not threaten 
 me. I am weak— sick — hardly yet alive, but I 
 do not like threats. The crushed adder bites. 
 Let me think : I hate him," he continued, slowly,
 
 204 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 recovering gradually from the excitement under 
 which he had first spoken. " I shall always hate 
 him, but that is no reason I should kill him. I 
 have never promised to kill him — never even 
 threatened to kill him. If I had, I would do it or 
 die; but I do not like death. I have tasted it, 
 and no man likes to eat of that dish twice. It 
 is very bitter; and I promise you in your own 
 words, Antonio. But you likewise must re- 
 member your promise to me.^' 
 
 '' Did you ever know me fail?" said the other. 
 *' The first thing is to get you well, the next to 
 shave off that long beard and those wild looks, 
 and then, with a friar's gown and the cord of St. 
 Francis, I will warrant I get you in the train of 
 one of these French lords. Can you enact a friar, 
 think you, Mardocchi?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mardocchi, with a bitter grin, 
 " I can drink and carouse all night, tell a coarse 
 tale with a twinkling eye, laugh loud at a small 
 jest, and do foul services for a small reward, if it 
 be to save my life ; but then I cannot speak these 
 people's language, Antonio."
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 205 
 
 " All the better — all the better," answered 
 Antonio ; " many of them know a little Italian, 
 and hard questions put in a foreign tongue, are 
 easily parried. It would be a good thing for one 
 half of the world if it did not understand what 
 the other half said." 
 
 " But who is this good lord to whom you are 
 going to send me?" asked the man. " Is he a 
 courtier or a soldier." 
 
 " A little of both," answered Antonio, " but 
 more a man of counsel than either. His name is 
 Ramiro d'Orco. 
 
 " Ah ! I have heard of him," said Mardocchi. 
 '^ He puzzles the people about the court. All 
 men think that at heart he has vast ambition, 
 and yet none can tell you why he thinks so. 
 All agree in that, though some think he is a 
 philosopher, some a simpleton." 
 
 " Well, well," answered Antonio, " the first 
 thing is for you to recover health and strength, 
 the next to get you safely away, the third to 
 make you known to the Signor Ramiro. He is 
 the sort of man to suit your views. I know him
 
 206 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 well. He is rich, and, as you say, ambitious. 
 He is wise, too, in a certain way ; and though he 
 has not yet found a path to the objects he aims 
 at, he will find one in time, or make one, even 
 were he to hew it through his own flesh and 
 blood. He wants serviceable men about him, 
 and that is the reason I send you to him. If he 
 rises, he will pull you up; if he falls, there is 
 no need he should pull you down with him. But 
 we will converse more to-morrow; to-day you 
 have talked enough, perhaps too much." 
 
 "But, Antonio, Antonio," said the other, ea- 
 gerly catching his sleeve, " you will tell no one 
 that I am here." 
 
 '' N"o one on earth," answered Antonio ; and, 
 bidding him farewell, he left him. 
 
 The journey of Antonio back to the villa was 
 somewhat longer than it needed to have been. 
 He took devious and circuitous paths, and even 
 turned back for a part of the way more than 
 once. It was not, however, that he fancied him- 
 self watched, or that he feared that any one
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. '207 
 
 might discover where he had heen; but his brain 
 was very busy, and he did not wish his thoughts 
 interrupted till they had reached certain conclu- 
 sions from which they were distant when he 
 set out. He asked himself if he could really 
 trust to Mardocchi's word, knowing but too well 
 how predominant the desire of revenge is in 
 every Italian heart. He half accused himself of 
 folly in having promised him so much; and 
 though he was, in truth, a good and sincere man, 
 yet the common habits and feelings of his 
 country every now and then suggested that it 
 would be easy to put an end to all doubt and 
 suspicion, if he saw cause, by the use of the 
 Italian panacea, the stiletto. "But yet," he 
 said to himself, "it may be better to take 
 my chance of his good faith, and let him 
 live. I never knew him break his word, and by 
 his means, perhaps, I may penetrate some of 
 Signor Eamiro's purposes in regard to young 
 Lorenzo. I will tie him down to some promise 
 on that point too. He will need my help yet in
 
 208 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 many ways ; and though I will not set a man to 
 betray his master, yet I may well require him to 
 warn his friends." 
 
 It was an age and a country in which men 
 dealt peculiarly in subtleties , so much so, indeed, 
 that right and truth were often refined away to 
 nothing, especially in the higher and better edu- 
 cated classes of society. The bravo, indeed, was 
 often a more straightforward and truthful man 
 than the nobleman who employed him. He 
 would own frankly that he was committing a 
 great sin ; but then he had faith in the Virgin, 
 and she would obtain remission for him. His 
 employer would find a thousand reasons to justify 
 the deed, and would so pile up motives and ne- 
 cessities in self-defence that it would seem almost 
 doubtful which was most to be pitied, himself or 
 his victim. Antonio was by no means without 
 this spirit of casuistry; and though no man 
 could cut through a long chain of pretences with 
 more trenchant wit than he could, in the case of 
 another, yet he might not unfrequently employ 
 them in his own. He resolved, therefore, not to
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 209 
 
 engage Mardocchi to betray his master's secrets, 
 but only to reveal them when it was necessary 
 that he, Antonio, should know them. The diffe- 
 rence, indeed, was very slight, but it was suffi- 
 cient to satisfy him. 
 
 Antonio's mind then naturally reverted to 
 Ramiro d'Orco, and he asked himself again and 
 again what could be the motive which led a man 
 so famous for stoical hardness to show such ten- 
 derness and consideration for Lorenzo Visconti. 
 " It may be," he thought, " that this grim old 
 tyrant thinks it a splendid match for his daugh- 
 ter. But then they say she has a magnificent 
 fortune of her own — her dower that of a princess. 
 There must be some other end in view. She is 
 a glorious creature too, midway between Juno 
 and Sappho. Well, we must wait and watch. 
 Heaven knows how it will all turn out. Per- 
 haps, after all, Ramiro has some scheme against 
 one of the princes of Romagna, in which he 
 hopes to engage the King of France through 
 young Lorenzo's influence. — It is so, I think — • 
 it is so, surely. He wants serviceable men too,
 
 210 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 and asked me if I knew of any. Well, I think 
 I have fitted him with one at least, and he will 
 owe me something for the good turn. But I 
 must hie homeward, and keep these things to 
 myself. N'o more interfering between Lorenzo 
 and his young love. He bore my warnings 
 badly this morning : I must let things take their 
 course, and try to guide without opposing.
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Milan had its attractions even for the gay court 
 of France. It was a devout and dissolute city ; 
 and we know how jovially, in some countries and 
 at some times, dissoluteness and devotion have 
 contrived to jog on together. Pastime and peni- 
 tence, pleasure and penance, alternated among 
 the courtiers of Charles YIII. with very agree- 
 able variety; and it has been whispered that the 
 young king himself was not unwilling either to 
 finger forbidden fruit or to express contrition 
 afterward. At all events, he wasted many pre- 
 cious days in the Lombard capital. Morning 
 after morning, fresh detachments of his army 
 were sent forward to Pavia, till that city might
 
 212 LEOiNORA d'ORCO. 
 
 be considered in possession of bis troops; but 
 still the young king lingered, and it was not till 
 nine days after the events we have recorded in 
 the last two or three chapters that the main 
 host of France took its wav southward. 
 
 How passed the intermediate time with those 
 we have left in the Villa de Kovera? It was 
 very sweetly. We must not dwell upon it, be- 
 cause it was so sweet; but a few words will tell 
 all. Lorenzo almost longed to remain an invalid, 
 that there might be a fair excuse for Leonora's 
 tending ; and Leonora feared to see him recover 
 health and strength too soon, lest the order to 
 depart should hurry him away. 
 
 Strange tales are told of the effects of Italian 
 poisons in those days, and doubtless much exag- 
 geration mingles with all the accounts we have 
 received, but certain it is that, though the youth 
 recovered steadily, each day gaining a little, yet 
 his convalescence was slow, and the subtle bane 
 of Buondoni's sword was more or less felt for 
 many after days. Still no order to march ar- 
 rived, but every day, about noon, the good Lord
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 2l3 
 
 de Yitry rode over, well attended, from Pavia to 
 inquire after the health of his young friend; and 
 although it is certain that Leonora could have 
 given him more minute accounts of Lorenzo's 
 state, and the old Count de Rovera could have 
 furnished him with juster and more scientific 
 views of Lorenzo's progress towards recovery, it 
 was always Bianca Maria he first asked for. He 
 speedily became a great favorite with the old 
 count, nevertheless. There was something in 
 his frank, soldier-like bearing that pleased, and 
 something in his ever merry conversation that 
 amused the old man, so that he began to wish 
 the day far distant when the noble Lord of Yitry 
 would come no more. 
 
 Bianca Maria was very happy too, and she 
 gave the rein to happiness without fear. Neither 
 she nor De Yitry ever dreamed that he was 
 making love. She thought herself too young to 
 be the object of passion, and he thought so too. 
 He fancied he should like to have a daughter 
 just like herself, without the slightest change in 
 thouo^ht or look — he would not have had a word
 
 214 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 she said altered — he would not have parted with 
 one ringlet from her head; and she pictured to 
 herself how pleasant it would have been to have 
 an elder brother just like De Vitry. 
 
 At the house of the contadino all went on 
 favorably likewise. Antonio visited the place 
 every day, till at length, one morning early, he 
 walked forth with a sandaled friar, who passed 
 round the wall of the podere with him, and 
 mounted a mule which was held by a little 
 peasant-boy. Some ten minutes after, a troop 
 of twenty French lances rode slowly on towards 
 Pavia, and the friar, by Antonio's intercession, 
 was permitted to join himself to the band. The 
 contadino and the contadino's wife were for once 
 satisfied with the same thing. 
 
 At length, however, the eventful day arrived 
 when the King of France commenced his march 
 from Milan against Naples. Drum, and trumpet, 
 and pennon, and banderol, and long lines of glit- 
 tering lances, and gorgeous surcoats, and splendid 
 suits of armour, passed along the road within 
 sight of the Villa Kovera, and though no absolute
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 215 
 
 order had arrived commanding Lorenzo to join 
 his troop and assume the command which had 
 been bestowed upon him, yet, as he gazed upon 
 the passing host from the higher windows, he felt 
 that duty required him to linger no longer, and 
 that the next day, at the latest, he was bound to 
 tear himself away from those who, in the short 
 space of a few weeks, had become so dear to 
 him. He felt sad ; and yet there was something 
 to a young and eager mind like his, in the in- 
 spiring sight of military array, which had its 
 consolatory influence. He thought of acquiring 
 glory and renown for Leonora's sake, and re- 
 turning to her with bright fame and a glorious 
 name, with a proud consciousness of courage and 
 of skill in arms. " If we must part — " he said 
 to himself. 
 
 If they were to part ! That was the consider- 
 ation most painful, for he had flattered himself 
 every day with the hope that the promised letter 
 of Ramiro d'Orco would arrive, giving him 
 authority to escort his fair promised bride to 
 join her father ; and oh ! how many enchanted
 
 216 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 scenes had Fancy fabricated out of the vague 
 shadows of that expected journey ! No letter 
 had arrived; the army was on its march; he 
 could delay no longer; and the bitternebo of dis- 
 appointn.e\it was added to the bitterness of 
 anticipate separation. 
 
 The last troopers of the main host of France 
 disappeared; and Leonora gazed 11 Lorenzo's 
 eyes, knowing, divining what was passing in his 
 heart, as they stood, together, with Bianca Maria 
 gazing from the neighbouring wind(-w. 
 
 " You must go, Lorenzo," said the beautiful 
 girl, " you must go, I know it. Fear not to 
 speak the words; Leonora would not keep you 
 from the path of fame and honor if she could. 
 It will be very terrible, but still you must go. 
 I had hoped, indeed — " 
 
 "See! see!" cried Bianca Maria _ "there are 
 more horsemen coming. It is the king himself 
 and his court; I remember well the array; and 
 there is Count Ludovic, on the monarch's left." 
 
 L'onora and her lover turned to the window 
 again, and saw the royal train sweep on towards
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 217 
 
 them. But suddenly the king drew in his rein 
 just opposite the gates. He did not dismount; 
 but a horseman dashed out from the escort, and 
 rode into the court-yard of the villa. 
 
 *' It is the order," said Lorenzo, in a low voice, 
 *' it is the order, and T must run down to receive 
 it." 
 
 The two lovely girls followed him quickly ; for 
 theirs was an age when nature's impulses have 
 not been curbed and disciplined, restrained and 
 checked, either by the iron rules of a factitious 
 state of society or the harder and more terrible 
 shackles of experience. At the bottom of the 
 great staircase he found die old Count of Rover i 
 speaking Avith one of t le king's officers, out of 
 whose mouth he took the words of the .monarch's 
 messige, saying, as soon as he saw Lorenzo, 
 " His majesty, the King of France, my young 
 cousin, desires your presence without. He has 
 not time t'^ dismount, this noble gentleman tells 
 me. Otherwise he would have honored our poor 
 house by his presence." 
 
 Lorenzo hurried away unbonnetted, and the 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 count, looking with a smile at his cousin and 
 granddaughter, said gaily : 
 
 " Now would I wager this jewel against a fool's 
 bauble that you girls would give your ears to 
 hear the conference. If so take the rich 
 peaches. Giovanozzo brought just now — one 
 take them on the gold salver, and let the other 
 carry out a cup of our best wine to refresh the 
 monarch after his long ride." 
 
 But there is an innate modesty which re- 
 quires no teaching of art, and Leonora an- 
 swfired : 
 
 "I pray you excuse me, sir; they are all men 
 there without, and we should blush to obtrude 
 ourselves upon the gaze of so many eyes." 
 
 As she spoke a warm glow came upon the face 
 of Bianca Maria, but it was not her cousin's words 
 that called it there. A shadow darkened the 
 doorway, and the sound of a step well-known to 
 the young girl's ear was heard, which brought 
 the joyous blood from the heart to the cheek in 
 a moment.
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 219 
 
 "I have stoleu away," said De Vitry, "like 
 a thief, and I have been a thief, too, sweet 
 ladies, and my noble lord. Just before I set 
 out from Pavia to meet the king, a courier came 
 from Bologna; and, good faith, when 1 found 
 out what he carried, I made free to rob him of 
 his bags, not knowing who else might finger 
 them. That letter for you, my lord count — 
 that for you, Signora Leonora; and here is one 
 also for Visconti, which I mjiy as well trust to 
 you also, very sure you will deliver it safely." 
 
 "And none for me?" asked Blanche Marie, 
 with a faint smile. 
 
 "None — only a message," said De Vitry, 
 while the others busied themselves with their 
 letters they had received; and, as he spoke, he 
 drew th^' fair young girl aside, adding, " I must 
 deliver it quickly, for I must be back ere I am 
 missed." 
 
 What he said to her in that low whisper, who 
 shall tell? Her cheek turned pale, and then 
 glowed crimson red, and her knees shook, and 
 her lips quivered, so as to stop the words that 
 
 L 2
 
 220 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 struggled for utterance, and jet there was joj 
 in her eyes. It was as if he had given her the 
 key of some treasury in her own heart which 
 overwhehiied her with the first sight of the 
 riches within. 
 
 " A sohlier's love, a soldier's hand, a nohle 
 name, an honourable name — that is all I have to 
 offer," were the words of De Yitry. ^* I know 
 I am nearly old enough to be your father; but 
 if you don't mind that, I don't." 
 
 He paused a moment as if for an awswer, 
 while Blanche Marie stood still trembling and 
 silent; and, with a shade upon his broad, frank 
 brow, he was turning away, when she mur- 
 mured : 
 
 " Stay ! stay ! " and, drawing the glove from 
 her hand, slie put it into his. 
 
 " I will carry it into the cannon's mouth," he 
 said, hiding it in his scarf; and then he kissed 
 her hand, and returned to the old count and her 
 fair cousin. " Lady, I must go," he said, taking 
 Leonora's gloved hand, and bending over it. 
 '' My lord, the count, farewell. We shall all meet
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 221 
 
 again soon, I hope; and, in the meantime, you 
 shall hear no evil of De Vitry, unless some of 
 those foul cannon shot carry oflf his head. A^Meu! 
 adieu!" 
 
 In the meantime, Lorenzo had hurried forth, 
 and stood hy the side of the king's horse. Charles 
 gazed kindly at him, and enquired after his 
 health, while Ludovic the Moor bent his eyes 
 upon him, but without suffering the slightest 
 shade of enmity to cross his face. 
 
 '' How goes it with you, fair cousin?" asked 
 the king; "think you that you are able to ride 
 on with the army towards Naples in a day or 
 two?" 
 
 " Quite able, sire," answered the young man; 
 " to-morrow, if it should be your Majesty's plea- 
 sure." 
 
 " Pale — pale," said the monarch, who seemed 
 to have been studying his countenance. " Is that 
 with loss of blood, Lorenzo, or the venom of the 
 sword?" 
 
 '' I lost little blood, sire," answered the young 
 man, " but the poison was very deadly, and re-
 
 222 LEONOKA D'ORCO. 
 
 quired both skill and careful nursing to bring 
 me through with life." 
 
 " Now curses upon the foul heart and foul 
 mind," exclaimed the young king, "that first 
 conceived so dastardly a wickedness as that of 
 smearing a good honest sword-blade with a 
 deadly drug." 
 
 The face of Ludovic the Moor turned some- 
 what white, and his lip curled. 
 
 " Your Majesty's curse," he said, '' must go 
 somewhat far back, and somewhat low down; for 
 the art was invented long ago, and the man who 
 invented it, if he is to be damned at all, is very 
 well damned by this time." 
 
 " Well, then, my curse shall have greater ex- 
 tent, noble sir," replied the king, frowning ; " I 
 will add — and curses be upon every one who uses 
 such dark treachery." 
 
 The Regent did not reply, but there were very 
 angry feelings in his heart; and it is probable 
 that nothing but the knowledge that the domi- 
 nions over wliich he ruled, and which he intended 
 should soon be his own in pure possession, were
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 223 
 
 absolutely at the mercy of the French king's sol- 
 diery, prevented him from seeking vengeance. 
 Indeed, nothing but fear can account for a man 
 so unscrupulous having endured the mortifica- 
 tions which Charles inflicted upon him during 
 the French stay in Lombardy ; but it must be 
 remembered that not only were many of his 
 towns r.ad castles in possession of the French, 
 and ot;;ers without any preparation for resist- 
 ance, but that his own person was every hour 
 wnthin reach of the French swords, and that, 
 though not quite a prisoner in his own court, he 
 might become so any moment, if he excited sus- 
 picion or gave offence to the young monarch. 
 He endured in silence then, and treasured his 
 vengeance for a futuie day. 
 
 An unpleasant pause succeeded; and then 
 Charles, turning to Lorenzo, continued the con- 
 versation, saying " So you think yourself quite 
 ready to ride. Well, then, join us to-morrow at 
 Pavia, Lorenzo. Methinks no one, however high 
 his station, will venture to assail you when near 
 our own person. Yet, as it is evident, from what
 
 224 LEONORA d'OKCO. 
 
 has already happened, that some one in this land 
 would fain remove you to abetter, you shall have 
 a guard with you, and must not walk the streets 
 of Pavia unattended. Where is De Vitry ? We 
 will give orders for a part of your troop in his 
 company to join you here to-night." 
 
 " He has gone into the villa for a moment, 
 sire," replied Lorenzo, "for the purpose, I believe, 
 of bidding adieu to the good old count, as I pre- 
 sume your majesty marches on speedily." 
 
 " Nay, he will have plenty of time hereafter," 
 said Charles; " I shall not leave Pavia for some 
 days. I have matters to inquire into ; but, in the 
 mean time, I will give orders for the men to join 
 you to-night; and methinks a score of French 
 lances Avill be sufficient to protect you from any 
 number of Buondonis who may be inclined or 
 hired to assassinate you." 
 
 There was an insulting tone of superiority in 
 the young king's voice and manner, which could 
 not have been very sweet to the Regent Ludovic, 
 but he seemed still to pay no attention to the 
 monarch's words, gazing forward on the road
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 225 
 
 without change of countenance, as if busy with 
 his own thoughts. 
 
 "Ah! here comes De Yitry," said the young 
 king. " Mount, mount, my lord marquis. Adieu, 
 my fair cousin Lorenzo. I will give the orders;" 
 and, thus saying, he rode on. 
 
 Lorenzo saw the train depart and pass away, 
 receiving many a good-natured greeting from old 
 friends in the lung's suite as it filed off along the 
 road. When he returned to the vestibule of the 
 villa with a somewhat gloomy heart, he found 
 the old Count of Eovera, with the two young 
 girls, still there and apparently in earnest con- 
 versation ; but Leonora exclaimed, as soon as she 
 saw him, "When must you go, Lorenzo?" 
 
 " To-morrow," said the young man sadly • 
 
 " Oh, then you will have plenty of time," ex- 
 claimed Blanche Marie, addressing her beautiful 
 cousin. 
 
 " To do what?" asked Lorenzo. 
 
 " To get ready to go with you," answered Leo- 
 nora, " if you will be troubled with such a com- 
 panion. Here is a letter for you from my father 
 
 L 5
 
 226 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 which will probably explain all. I have had 
 another from him, telling me to come on with 
 you and join him at Bologna, if you have a suf- 
 ficient train to render our journey secure; but he 
 says there is little or no danger by the way." 
 
 The old Count of Eovera shook his head with 
 a disapproving look, murmuring, " Mighty great 
 danger on the way, I think. On my life, I 
 believe Ramiro is mad; but I must admonish the 
 youth strictly before he goes, and take care that 
 she has plenty of women about her."
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 227 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 "See, De Yitry, that a force of twenty lances be 
 sent from Pavia to our young cousin ere night." 
 said the king; '' that will be enough for his pro- 
 tection, my lord Regent, I presume." 
 
 '^ More than enough, sire," replied Ludovic, 
 somewhat sternly. " Himself alone, with a few 
 of his own servants, could pass quite safely — ex- 
 cept, indeed, in case of some sudden tumult." 
 
 " Which tumults are easily raised in this Italy 
 of yours," replied the young monarch. " It is 
 therefore better he should have a French pennon 
 with him. Methinks. after our alliance offensive 
 and defensive, no one will dare to attack that, my 
 lord Regent." 
 
 Lddovic bit his lip, but then he smiled grimly,
 
 228 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 saying, " Not unless he should chance to en- 
 counter the forces of our dear cousin Alphonso, 
 King of Naples, coming to drive the poor Sforzas 
 out of !Milan, and give your majesty some trouble 
 in the plains of Lombardy. They would not, 
 methinks, show much reverence for a French 
 pennon, nor even for the banner of France 
 itself." 
 
 " Tis strange we have no news," said Charles, 
 with a shadow on his brow; "our last intelli- 
 gence dates the 14th of last month, and then the 
 Nenpolitan fleet were under full sail." 
 
 " It is possible that Prince Frederick, who 
 commands his brother's fleet, may have defeated 
 the Duke of Orleans and landed in Tuscany, 
 sire," observed Ludovic ; '' in that case we shall 
 hear nothing of the enemy till we see him. May 
 it not be better for me to summon all my forces, 
 and march with your majesty till we are assured 
 the roads are open? I can gather twenty thou- 
 sand men together, from different garrisons, in 
 eight days, but I have only four thousand now 
 in Pavia."
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 229 
 
 The king seemed to hesitate; but just then 
 De Vitry, who was riding half a horse's length 
 behind on the kin.-'s right, raised his voice saying, 
 bluntly, " Better wait decision till we are in the 
 city, my liege, and then I will tell your majesty 
 why/' 
 
 '• Better wait till then, at all events," said the 
 king, thoughtfully ; " but what is your reason, 
 De Vitry?" 
 
 " Simply this, my liege," said the good soldier, 
 *' in the grey of the morning there came in a 
 courier from Bologna. He said he was bound by 
 his orders to stay in Pavia till your majesty ar- 
 rived or sent. But he had letters for you, sire, 
 which he would show to no one; and some pri- 
 vate letters for the camp, which I took from him. 
 The: gave no tidings, however, that I could 
 learn." 
 
 " Did he giv3 no intelligence himself?" asked 
 Ludovic, eagerly. 
 
 ''He w s mightily cautious of committing 
 himself, Sir Count," answered De Vitry, drily;
 
 230 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 "a most discreet and silent messenger, I can assure 
 
 you." 
 
 All parties fell into silence, and rode on for 
 about half a mile at a slow pace, when the count 
 Regent turned to the king, saying, " Here I will 
 spur on, so please you, sire. I would fain see 
 that all is rightly prepared to receive you royally. 
 I have been obliged to trust that care to others 
 hitherto; but I would fain confirm the assurances 
 given me by my people, by my own eyesight." 
 
 Charles bowed his head with a somewhat 
 doubtful look, and Ludovic instantly forced his 
 horse forward with great speed. Some twenty 
 horsemen drew out from tlie rest of the cavalcade 
 and followed him, and Charles turned his head 
 toward De Vitry with an inquiring look. 
 
 " Let him go, sire — let him go," said De Vitry 
 in a low voice, spurring up to the king's side; 
 " he can do no harm. I have cared for all that. 
 I have so posted our men that he has no more 
 power in Pavia than an Indian has. Lucky that 
 you sent me on as your quarter -master some days
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 231 
 
 before; for I bad time to fix on all the command- 
 ing spots; and as I passed the army this morn- 
 ing, I gave the leaders instructions, and furnished 
 them Avith guides to their several quarters. But, 
 what is more important still, if yourniajesty will 
 bend your ear for a moment, I drew from this 
 courier, upon promise that I would not deprive 
 him of his largesse, but add something on my own 
 part, that the good Duke of Orleans, with his 
 little squadron, had contrived to drive back the 
 whole Neapolitan fleet into Naples. Had he had 
 galleys enough he would have taken half of them 
 and, perhaps, Prince Frederick into the bargain. 
 As it was, he could only take one galley and sink 
 another. The news is certain, sire; so Signor 
 Ludovic's cunning scheme of joining his men 
 with yours must fail." 
 
 " Think you he meant mischief!" asked the 
 young king, whose face had gradually been 
 lighted up as his gallant officer spoke. 
 
 " He meant to have the power of doing mis- 
 chief or not as he pleased," replied De Vitry ; 
 "with twenty thousand men, sire, while you
 
 232 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 had certain enemies and uncertain friends before 
 you, he might have proved a dangerous comrade 
 on the march whenever he chose to turn traitor, 
 which lie will do, depend upon it, at the slight- 
 est reverse. A man who can shut up his own 
 nephew and ward, with the poor lad's wife and 
 child, in the castle of Pavia, and feed them all 
 three u[ on slow poison till there is no strength 
 left in any of them, cannot he well trusted, sire." 
 
 '' Has he done that?" exclaimed the young 
 king, with his cheek flushing and his eyes all in 
 a blaze, " has he done that?" 
 
 " I have it from the very best authority," re- 
 plied the other. " T cannot speak from my own 
 knowledge; for they would not let me into the 
 castle; but I have been told so by those who 
 know ; and if he were not afraid of letting you 
 see what is going on in that dark old fortress, 
 why should he not assign you the magnificent 
 rooms, where so many Lombard kings and Eoman' 
 emperors have sat, and put the gates in possession 
 of your troops? The house he has had prepared 
 for your majesty is fine enough : but it is but a
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO. 233 
 
 citizen's house, after all; and, depend upon it, 
 there are things within the walls of the castle 
 he would not have you see with your own eyes." 
 
 " He shall find himself mistaken," said the 
 young king — " he shall find himself mistaken. I 
 will see, and that at once. How many men have 
 we with us now, De Vitry ?" 
 
 " Some four hundred, I should guess, sire," 
 replied the officer; '' but there are a thousand 
 more in the little guard-house square at the 
 gates, ready to escort your Majesty to your 
 dwelling." 
 
 " That is right! that is right!" said Charles, 
 with a smile; "let us put our horses to a quicker 
 pace, good friend. We will be upon the worthy 
 Regent's heels before he expects us." 
 
 In three quarters of an hour, Charles and his 
 escort had reached the gates of Pavia. There 
 was bustle and some disarray among the Lom- 
 bard soldiers on guard ; for the monarch had ap- 
 peared before he was expected; but they hurried 
 forth from the guard-houses to salute him as he 
 passed, and the French men-at-arms and soldiers
 
 234 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 in the little square were up and arrayed in a 
 minute. At the entrance of the street leading 
 from the Milan gate into the heart of the city — 
 a street which the reader may well remember, 
 from its gloomy aspect, especially if he have en- 
 tered Pavia on a rainy day — a gallant party of 
 horsemen, dressed in the robes of peace, advanced 
 to meet the^King of France, and, after due salu- 
 tation, told him they had been sent by the Regent 
 to conduct him to his dwelling." 
 
 " Good ! We will follow you speedily," said 
 the monarch ; " but there is one visit we have to 
 pay first, which cannot be omitted. In kingly 
 courtesy i?nd in kindred kindness we are bound 
 to set foot to the ground in Pavia, for the first 
 time, at the dwelling of our young cousin, the 
 Duke Giovan Galeazzo. Lead on to the castle, 
 De Vitry, and let the whole train follow. We 
 v/ill then accompany these good gentlemen to the 
 dwelling prepared for us by the Regent's kind- 
 ness." 
 
 "^Some consternation was apparent among the 
 retainers of the Count Ludovic; they spoke to-
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 235 
 
 getber in whispers; hut the young king showed 
 no inclination to wait for the conclusion of their 
 deliberation, and rode on, guided by De Vitry, 
 merely saying to the Lombard nobles, with a 
 somewhat stern look, " Gentlemen, we hope for 
 your escort to the castle." 
 
 They did not dare to disobey an invitation 
 ■which was so like a command; and the whole 
 cavalcade moved onward toward the citadel, with 
 the exception of one small page, who slunk away 
 at the first corner of a street they came to, and 
 was no further seen. It was not long ere the 
 frowning barbican, with its drawbridge and 
 portcullis, appeared before the royal party; and 
 Charles, turning to the retainers, said, Avith a 
 somewhat bitter smile, " Will you request the 
 warders to open the gates for the King of France, 
 to visit his fair cousin the duke. We must not 
 summon them ourselves^ having so many armed 
 men with us; for that might seem too peremp- 
 tory." 
 
 There was a moment of doubt and hesitation, 
 evidently, on the part of the envoys. The men-
 
 236 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 at-arms nearest the king, who, with the quick 
 wit of Frenchmen, seemed to comprehend tlie 
 whole situation in a moment, grasped their 
 lances more firmly ; and the king's brow began 
 to darken at finding his orders disobeyed. Upon 
 that moment hung the fate of Pavia, and per- 
 haps of Lombardy ; but it ended by one of the 
 Lombard nobles riding forward and speaking to 
 the officer at the gates. Whether he heard or 
 not the sound of horses' feet at a gallop, I can- 
 not tell, but certain it is that while he seemed to 
 parley with the soldiers, who were apparently 
 unwilling to open the gates even at his command, 
 Ludovic the Mcor, with two or three attendants, 
 dashed into the open space before the barbican, 
 and rode quickly to the front He had had 
 notice of the young monarch's movements, and 
 his part was decided in a moment 
 
 " How now, sirrah !" he exclaimed, addressing 
 the soldiers beneath the gateway in a loud and 
 angry tone, " do you keep the King of France 
 waiting before the gates like a lackey? Throw 
 open the gates! Down with the drawbridge!
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 237 
 
 My lord king," he continued, with bated breath, 
 " I regret exceedingly that these men should 
 have detained you ; but they are faithful fools, and 
 take no orders but from me or ray dear nephew. 
 Had your Majestj hinted your intention, orders 
 to admit you instantly w^ould have been long 
 since given. I proposed to introduce you to- 
 morrow to the duke, with due ceremony; but 
 you are nlways determined to take your servants 
 by sui'prise." 
 
 Charles colored a little, and felt himself re- 
 buked ; but when the Ilegent sprang to the ground 
 and would have held his stirrup, he would not 
 ^permit him, taking the arm of De Vitry, and 
 bowing his head courteously, but without reply. 
 At the gates, De Vitry drew back, suffering the 
 king and Ludovic to pass on; but they had 
 baidlv reached the second crates, when the arch- 
 way of the barbican and the drawbridge were 
 taken possession of by the Fiench soldiers, wiio 
 began gaily talking to the Italians, though tlie 
 latter understood not a word they said. The 
 Lombard nobles looked sullen and discontented;
 
 238 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 but they sat still on their horses, little accus- 
 tomed to the dashing impudence of the French, 
 and not knowing well what demeanour to assume 
 toward men who came as their friends aiid. allies, 
 hut who so soon showed that they considered 
 tliemselves their masters. 
 
 In the mean time, each followed only by a 
 page, the King and the Count-Regent walked on 
 through several dim passages and lofty, ill- 
 liiilited halls. Few attendants were obFerved 
 about, and Ludovic took notice of none of them 
 till he reached a large and apparently more 
 modern saloon, where an old man, somewhat 
 richly dressed, stood at a door on the other side. 
 Him he beckoned up, saying, '' Tell my dear 
 nephew, Franconi, that I am bringing his majesty 
 the King of France to visit him. This royal 
 lord, considering the duke's ill health, dispenses 
 with the first visit. Will your Majesty take a 
 cup of wine after your long ride? It will just 
 give the old seneschal time to announce your 
 coming, lest such an unexpected honor should 
 agitate the poor boy too much."
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 239 
 
 '^ I thank you, my lord, I am not thirsty," 
 answered the King, drily, "and, for certain rea- 
 sons given by my physicians, I drink but little 
 wine." 
 
 A slight and somewhat mocking smile passed 
 over the hard features of Ludovic, as if he sus- 
 pected some fear in the mind of Charles, and 
 gloried, rather than felt shame, in an evil repu- 
 tation. Both remained silent; and in a few 
 minutes tlie old man returned to usher them into 
 the presence of the young duke. 
 
 Oh ! what a sad sight it was wlien the senes- 
 chal, now joined by two inferior officers, threw 
 open the door of a chamber at the end of the 
 adjacent corridor, and displayed to the eyes of 
 Charles, the faded form of Giovan Galeazzo, the 
 young Duke of Milan, stretched upon a richly- 
 ornamented bed, and covered with a di-essiiig 
 gown of cloth of gold. The corpse of Inez de 
 Castro seemed only the more ghastly from tlie 
 regal garments which decked her mouldei-iiig 
 frame, and the splendour of the apartment, the 
 decoration of the bed, and the glistening bed-
 
 240 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 gown only gave additional wanness to the face 
 of the unhappy Duke of Mihm. Once pre- 
 eminently handsome, and with features finely 
 chiselled still, tall and perfectly formed, not yet 
 twenty years of age, he lay there a living skele- 
 ton. His cheek was pale as ashes; his brow ot 
 marble whiteness; the thin but curling locks of 
 yt blick hair falling wildly round his forehead; 
 his lips hardly tintei with red; and a preterna- 
 tural light in his dark eyes, which gave more 
 terrible effect to the deathly pallor of his coun- 
 tenance 
 
 A sweet, a wonderfully sweet smile played 
 round his month when he saw the young King of 
 France; and he raised himself feebly on his 
 elbow to greet him as he approached. 
 
 " Welcome, my most noble lord, the Kjng," 
 he said in a weak voice; "this is indeed most 
 kind of your majesty to visit your poor cousin, 
 wdu)m dnty Avould have called to your feet long 
 ago, had not sore sickness kept him prisoner. 
 But, ahis! from this bed I cannot move — never 
 shall au^ain, I fear."
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 241 
 
 Charles seated himself by the unlisippy young 
 man's side, and kindly took his hand. They 
 were first cousins; their age was nearly the same, 
 and well might the young monarch's bosom 
 thrill with compassion and sympathy for the 
 unhappy Duke. 
 
 " I grieve," said the King, " to see you so very 
 ill, fair cousin; but I trust you will be better 
 soon, the heats of summer have probably ex- 
 hausted you, and — " 
 
 Giovan Galeazzo shook his bead almost im- 
 patiently, and turned a meaning look upon his 
 uncle. 
 
 " Has this continued long?" asked the king. 
 
 " It began with my entrance into this ac- 
 cursed fortress," replied the youth, " now some 
 two years ago. It has been slow, but very, very 
 certain. Day by day, hour by hour, it has 
 preyed upon me, till there is not a sound part 
 left." 
 
 " He fancies that the air disagress with him," 
 said Ludovic the Moor, " but the physicians say 
 it is not so; and we have had so many tumults 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 and insurre' tions in the land, that, for liis own 
 safety, it is needful he should make his residence 
 in some strong phice." 
 
 "For my safety!" murmured the unhappy 
 duke; "for my destruction. Tumults, ay, 
 tumults — "would I could strike the instigator of 
 them! 'Tis not alone the air, good uncle; 'tis 
 the water also. 'Tis everything I eat and drink 
 in this hateful place." 
 
 " The caprice of sickness, helieve me, nephew," 
 answered Ludovio, bending his heavy brows upon 
 him. "You are too ill to have appetite." 
 
 " Ay, but I have thirst enough," replied the 
 young man; "one must eat and drink you 
 know, my lord the king. Ti'ould it were not 
 so." 
 
 " It often happens, I have heard," said Charles 
 addressing himself to the Regent, " that what a 
 sick man fancies will cure him, is of a higher 
 virtue than all medicines — what he believes de- 
 structive, will destroy him. He says, I think, 
 he was quite well till he came here." 
 
 "Oh, how well!" exclaimed the dying prince;
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 243 
 
 " life was then a blessing indeed, and now a 
 curse. Each breath of air, each pleasant sight 
 or sound, went thrilling through my veins with 
 the wild revehy of joy. The song birds and the 
 flowers were full of calm delight, and a gallop 
 over the breezy hill was like a madness of en- 
 joyment. But now — now — now — how. is it all 
 changed now ! Yerily, as the wise man said, 
 'The song of tlie grasshopper is a burden.*" 
 
 ''We must change all this," said Charles, 
 greatly moved; " we must have you forth from 
 ravi;i to some purer air. My own physician 
 shall see you." 
 
 The unfortunate young man shook his head, 
 and again turned his eyes upon his uncle with a 
 meaning look. 
 
 " It is vain, my lord the king," he said, 
 " or rather it is too late. My sickness has ob- 
 tained too great a mastery. The subtle enemy 
 has got me completely in his toils — the sickness 
 I mean; he has got me in every limb, in every 
 vein; a little more and a little more each day — 
 do you understand me, sire? — and he will never 
 m2
 
 244 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 loose his hold while I have a breath or a pulsa- 
 tion left. But I have a wife, you knoAv, and 
 a child— a fine boy — who is to be Duke of 
 Milan. For them I crave your royal protection. 
 Let them be as your wards — indeed, I will make 
 them so. If — if," he continued, hesitating, and 
 turning a furtive glance towards his uncle; "if 
 I could see your majesty alone, I would commu- 
 nicate my hist wishes." 
 
 "You shall — you shall see me," said Charles, 
 with a gush of feeling wliich brought the tears to 
 his eyes. But those feelings were deslined to 
 be still more excited. 
 
 While he yet spoke th.ere was a noise with- 
 out, and a woman's voice was heard speaking in 
 high and excited tones. 
 
 " I ivill pass," she said, " who dares to oppose 
 me? I will speak with the noble King of France; 
 he is my cousin — he wnll be my protector." 
 
 The moment after the door burst open, and a 
 beautiful young girl — for she was no more — en- 
 tered, and tlirew herself at Charles's feet. Her 
 hair had fallen from its bandages, and flowed in
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 245 
 
 beautiful profusion over her neck and shoulders. 
 Her dress, though rich, was torn, as if main force 
 had been employed to detain her, and her eyes 
 were full of the eagerness and fire of a late 
 struggle. Ludovic the Moor turned pale, and 
 two men, who appeared at tlie door by which 
 slie entered, made him a gesture of enquiry, as 
 if asking him whether they should tear her from 
 the king's feet. Ludovic answered not but by a 
 frown; and in the meantime the princess poured 
 forth her tale and her petitions in a voice that 
 trembled with anxiety, and hope, and terror. 
 
 " Protect us, oh my lord the king," she cried, 
 '•protect us ! Do not raise me; I cannot rise, 
 I will not rise, till you have promised to protect 
 us. Protect us from that man — from that base 
 relative, false guardian, traitor, subject. Look 
 upon my husband, my lord; see him lying there 
 withered, feeble, powerless; and yet but two 
 years ago — oh, how beautiful and strong, and 
 active he was ! What has done this ? What caa 
 have done it but drugs mixed with his daily food? 
 Who can have done it but he who seeks to open
 
 246 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 for himself a way to the ducal seat of Milan? 
 Why is he here confined, a captive in his own 
 dukedom, in his own city, in liis own house? 
 Why is he not suffered to breathe the free air, to 
 control his own actions, to name his own officers 
 and servants? Tumults! who instigates the 
 tumults! The people love their prince — have 
 ■always loved him ; cheers and applause went 
 wherever he trod; he passed fearlessly among 
 them as among his brethren, till his kind uncle 
 there, in his tender care for his safety, first 
 stirred up a tumult by one of his own edicts, 
 and then shut his sovereign up in a prison in 
 everything but name. Deliver us, my lord king, 
 from this captivity ! Have compassion upon 
 my lord, have compassion upon me, have com- 
 passion upon our poor helpless child ! If ever 
 •your noble heart has burned at a tale of long 
 'and unredressed wrong — if ever it has melted at 
 a story of unmerited suffering — if ever your 
 eyes have oveiflowed at the thought of cruelty 
 shown to a woman and a child, as you are 
 migh y, as you are noble, as you are a Christian,
 
 LEONORA D^ORCO. 247 
 
 deliver us from the heavy yoke we bear! As 
 king, as Christian, as knight, deliver us!" 
 
 " I will — I will," answered Charles, raising her 
 and seating her by him ; "by every title you have 
 given me, you have a right to demand my aid, and 
 I am bound to give it. My good cousin the count, 
 this must be seen to at once. I will tarry in Pavia 
 for the purpose of enquiring into tliese matters, 
 and seeing them rightly regulated before I go 
 hence." 
 
 '^ As your majesty pleases," answered Ludovic, 
 bowing his head with a look of humility. '' You 
 will find, upon full inquiry, that I have acted for 
 my nephew's best interests. The lady, poor 
 thing, is somewhat prejudiced, if not distraught; 
 but all these matters can be made perfectly clear 
 when you have time to listen." 
 
 The young duke gave him a look of disdain, 
 and she answered, " Ay perfectly clear, count, 
 if the king will but hear both parties." 
 
 " I will, dear lady, doubt it not," answered 
 Charles tenderly. '' Be comforted. No time shall 
 be lost. My cousin here shall be removed to a
 
 248 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 purer air; my own physician shall visit him. Be 
 comforted." 
 
 A smile — the first smile of hope that had visited 
 her lip for many a day — came upon the poor 
 girl's face. '^ Thank you — oh, thank you, sire," 
 she said. 
 
 Well had she stopped there ! But she was 
 very young, had no experience of the omnipotence 
 of selfishness with man. Her fate had been a 
 very sad one. She never sang to her child but 
 with tears; and yet all had not taught her that 
 oceans of blood would not bar man from an object 
 of great desire. 
 
 '' I cannot be comforted my lord," she 
 answered, " notwithstanding all your generous 
 promises — nay, notwithstanding even their ful- 
 filment, while my poor father, against whom your 
 mighty power is bent — I speak of Alphonso, 
 King of Naples — is in such a case of peril." 
 
 Charles's brow darkened; the compassionate 
 look passed away; but still the unhappy girl 
 went on, crushing out in the bosom of the young 
 king the spark of pity which her melancholy
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 249 
 
 situation had lighted. " My poor father my 
 lord," she continued, " has done nothing to call 
 down your indignation upon him. Let me entreat 
 your mercy on him ; let me beseech you to pause 
 and consider ere you ruin a man — a king 
 who has never injured you — nay, who is ready 
 to submit to any terms you are pleased to dictate. 
 Oh, my noble lord, hear me ; let me pi ad not 
 only for my husband and myself, and my child, 
 but for my father and my brother also." 
 
 Ludovic the Moor, one of the most subtle 
 readers of the human heart tliat tlie world has 
 ever produced, heard her first reference to her 
 father with delight; and his eyes were instantly 
 turned towards the young king's face. He traced 
 but too easily the change of feelings going on. 
 He saw the first spark of irritation produced by 
 the unwelcome topic : he saw her gradually fan- 
 ning it into a flame by her efforts to change the 
 settled and selfish purpose of tlie king. He saw 
 the struggle between tlie sense of justice and a 
 favorite scheme; he saw the anger which a con- 
 sciousness of Avrong, together with a resolution 
 M 5
 
 250 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 to persevere in wrong invariably produces, growing 
 up in Charles's bosom ; and he let her go on with- 
 out a word till he perceived that the effect was 
 complete. Then suddenly interposing, he said, 
 *' May it please your Mnjesty, such exciting 
 gcenes are too much for the feeble health of my 
 poor nephew; I must care for it, if this lady does 
 not. You have heard all she has to say, and if 
 you will mark the duke's countenance, you will 
 perceive, from the change which has taken place, 
 that further discussion now would be dangerous 
 if not fatal. I will therefore beseech your ma- 
 jesty to give this matter further consideration at 
 a future day, and to visit the poor dwelling I 
 have prepared for you." 
 
 The king rose; and the poor duchess, per- 
 ceiving too late the error she had committed, 
 bent down her head upon her hands and wept. 
 Charles took a kindly leave of the young duke, 
 removing the further consideration of his case to 
 that '^ more convenient season" which never 
 comes, and merely saying to the poor helpless 
 girl who had pleaded for her father as well as for
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 251 
 
 her husband, " Be comforted, madam. We will 
 see to your protection and future fate." 
 
 She raised not her eyes, but shook her head 
 sadly, and the king departed. We all know that 
 when we are dissatisfied with ourselves we are 
 dissatisfied with others; and the young King of 
 France felt as if the duchess had injured him in 
 seeking a justice that he would not grant. 
 
 He walked hastily onward, then, somewhat in 
 advance of the Count Regent. Ludovic followed 
 more slowl}^ with a slight smile upon his coun- 
 tenance; and the door closed upon the young 
 Duke of Milan and his fate for ever. 
 
 Through the long corridor, into the great re- 
 ception-room, and across it, sped the King of 
 France, displeased with himself and every one. 
 The door was held open by the seneschal till 
 Ludovic had passed it; but the Moor lingered a 
 moment upon the threshold, gave a quick glance 
 around, and whispered in the ear of the senes- 
 chal, " Give him a double portion in his wine 
 to-night. We must have no more conference^." 
 Then following the monarch, with a thoughtful
 
 252 LEONORA d'oRCO. 
 
 look, he aided him to mount his horse, and took 
 his pkice by his side. Rumours spread through 
 the City of Pavia on the following day that Gio- 
 van Galeazzo was in a dying state, and Ludovic 
 confirmed them to the King of France, saying, 
 " I feared the excitement would be too much for 
 his weakened frame.'^ 
 
 That night, in the midst of a joyous banquet, 
 the heavy bell of the great church was heard 
 tolling slowly, announcing that another Duke of 
 Milan had gone to his tomb.
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 All was bustle and the hurry of preparation in 
 the Yilhi Eovera. Leonora's two young maids 
 had as much trouble in packing up her wardrobe 
 as a modern ladv's maid in arran^T^ins; her bridal 
 
 %i Co 
 
 wardrobe, though, be it said, if a lady's apparel 
 in those days w^as richer, it was not quite so 
 multitudinous as the wardrobe of a modern lady. 
 But these two young maids were not destined to 
 be her only attendants; for the old count, think- 
 ing, as he had expressed it, that the Signor Ra- 
 miro d'Orco must be mad to intrust the escort of 
 his lovely daughter to so young a cavalier as.
 
 254 
 
 Lorenzo Visconti, had engaged a respectable and 
 elderly lady, who had served for many years ia 
 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 private conclave to the ancient 
 Signora Mariana; and faithfully did she promise 
 to obey all his injunctions, and keep up the 
 utmost decorum and propriety of demeanour by 
 the way. 
 
 But alas! there is no faith to be put in old 
 women, especially those of the grade and condi- 
 tion of life which was filled by Mariana. They 
 are all at heart duennas, and, strange to say, ge- 
 nerally, however hard and cold their exteriors, 
 feel a sympathy witli the tenderness and warmth 
 of youth. The old lady smiled as she left the old 
 man; and perhaps she judged rightly that thus 
 to restrain the actions and keep close supervision 
 on the conduct of a young lady and a young 
 lord upon a long journey through a distracted 
 country was a task so much above her powers 
 that it would be better not to attempt it. "I
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 255 
 
 shall have enough to do to take care of my old 
 bones upon a rough trotting horse during the 
 day, and to rest them during the night, without 
 minding other people's affairs," she said. '^Be- 
 sides, the Signor Lorenzo is a nice, honorable 
 young man, and would do nothing that is wrong, 
 I am sure; and tlie signora is quite discreet, 
 and moreover, proud, which is better." 
 
 Leonora and Lorenzo were full of joy and an- 
 ticipation. Perhaps never in history was a long 
 journey over rough roads, through a wild coun- 
 try, with the prospect of but poor accommoda- 
 tion any where but in the large cities, contem- 
 plated with so much wild joy. Fancy was like 
 a bird escaped from its cage, and it soared over 
 the future on expanded wings — soared high and 
 sang. 
 
 Every now and then, it is true, a feeling of 
 she knew not what awe or dread came over Leo- 
 nora's heart — a sensation as if of some danger 
 — a fear of the very wideness of her range, of 
 her perfect freedom from all control — a conscious-
 
 256 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 ness that she was a woman and was weak, and 
 very much in love. But it soon passed away 
 when she thought of Lorenzo's high and chival- 
 rous spirit; and then she gave herself up to 
 hope and joy again. 
 
 Poor Blanche Marie was the only one to be 
 pitied, and she was very sad. Even the thought 
 that she was loved — that the timid dream of her 
 youth's dawning twilight was already verified, 
 could not console her. She was losing her loved 
 companion, her bright cousin, and her lover 
 all at once. For the loss of the two first, indeed, 
 she had in some degree to blame herself; for, 
 with girlish enthusiasm, she had resolved, from 
 the moment she heard that Lorenzo was about to 
 return to Italy, that he should fall in love with 
 Leonora, and she rejoiced that all had gone ac- 
 cording to her plans, but she would rather have 
 had them remain at the Villa Ilovera, and make 
 love there beside her. Then, as to De Vitry, 
 she would not have withheld him from the field 
 of fame for the world; but she would rather
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 257 
 
 have had the lists where glory was to be gained, 
 at the back of the garden than far away at the 
 end of Italy. Sometimes she asked herself if 
 she really loved him — if she were not too young 
 to know what love was; but then the pain she 
 felt at the thought of his leaving her foi- months, 
 perhaps for years, convinced her little heart that 
 there was something in it which had never been 
 there before. 
 
 Thus waned the day of the king's halt at the 
 villa gates, and the morning came, when Lorenzo 
 and his train, now amounting to twenty lances 
 and some forty inferior soldiers, were to depart. 
 Besides these, however, were Leonora's servants, 
 male and female, Lorenzo's personal attendants, 
 horses and mules and panieris, and a baggage- 
 wagon, with six silver-gray oxen to draw it. 
 Moreover, with the baggage-wagon were six foot- 
 soldiers, armed with hand-guns, then a new in- 
 vention, for the manufacture of which, as I 
 think I have mentioned before, Milan had become 
 famous. It made altogether a grand cavalcade, 
 occupying so much of the road Avhile the party
 
 258 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 waited for their young leader and the fair lady 
 he was to escort, that the peasant carts could 
 hardly get past on their w^y to supply the market 
 of Pavia with all the luxuries which the King 
 of France's arrival in the city had brought into 
 demand. 
 
 Much and sage advice had to be given by the 
 old Count of Rovera both to Lorenzo and Leo- 
 nora; and long was their leave-taking with poor 
 Blanche Marie; but, in some sort it was fortunate 
 it was so ; for, before all was over, the Seigneur 
 de Yitry appeared among them, exclaiming, in 
 his usually gay tone, though there was a certain 
 degree of shadow on his brow, '^ To horse ! 
 to horse, Yisconti ! You are to have a longer 
 march than you contemplated. It has been 
 decided by the King that 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 on the way to 
 Naples." 
 
 "But where am I to halt?" asked the young 
 cavalier; "remember, Seigneur de Yitry, that it
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 259 
 
 is long since I quitted this land, and I know not 
 the distances." • 
 
 " All that is arranged," answered De Vitry — 
 " arranged upon the very best judgment and au- 
 thority, that of a man who knows not the worthy 
 Count Regent, but who knows the country well. 
 At Belgiojoso, just seven miles beyond Pavia, 
 you will find the route-card, as far as Bolognn, 
 with every day's march laid down, in the hands 
 of the king's harbinger, old St. Pierre, who goes 
 with you, with twenty lances more, to mark out 
 the royal quarters. But, remember, you command 
 the whole party, and the king relies upon your 
 fidelity and discretion. From each station you 
 will march forward at eight in the morning, 
 unless contrary orders from the court reach you 
 earlier. If you should obtain information of any 
 hostile movements in tlie front, you will send 
 back intelligence, unless you meet with an 
 enemy, in which case you will fall back upon the 
 van." 
 
 " Without fighting?" asked Lorenzo. 
 
 *' Why, methinks," said De Vitry, with a gay
 
 260 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 glance at Leonora, "that, considering that you 
 have some non-combatants of your party, the less 
 you fight the better till they are safely bestowed 
 in the rear. But you must use your own dis- 
 cretion in that matter. It would not do to see a 
 French pennon retreat before a handful. But 
 you must be careful." 
 
 " I will, depend upon it, on the signora's ac- 
 count," answered Lorenzo. 
 
 "'Tis a good guarantee," saidDeVitry; "but 
 does the king know she goes with you ! — Well, 
 well, do not color and look perplexed; I will ar- 
 range all that for you, only you must tell me 
 what tale I am to relate to his majesty. Am I to 
 say aught about hasty marriages and a Signora 
 Yisconti? or that the days of knight errantry 
 have been fully revived by you and De Terrail, 
 and that you are escorting a distressed demoiselle 
 to a place of safety ?" 
 
 Though Leonora blushed deeply, Bianca Maria 
 laughed gaily. " Why, you might have heard 
 all about it yesterday, ray lord," she said, " had 
 you waited till Leonora opened her letter from
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 261 
 
 her father, or till Lorenzo came back. It is by 
 his command she goes — at his request my cousin 
 escorts her. But you were in such a hurry to 
 leave us, you would stay for nothing." 
 
 " I staid till I had got all I wanted for the 
 time," replied the good soldier, *' though I may 
 Avant 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 Fa via. I could 
 not ask it yesterday, for liis mnjesty was gone ere 
 I received Signor Ramiro's letter." 
 
 " \YelI, let it pass," said De Vitry. ''I give 
 leave for the piesent, and the king will not cidl 
 the lady back when you are forward on the march, 
 I think." 
 
 " But, Seigneur de Vitry," said Leonora, '^ I 
 fear truly we shall lose our wjiy, for neither Lo- 
 renzo nor I know a step beyond Pavia, and all 
 these soldiers are French, I innigine." 
 
 '' Have you not the renowned Antonio Avith 
 you?" said De Vitry, gaily ;'' trust to him — 
 trust to him; but never doubt him or ask if he
 
 262 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 is sure of tlie road, or he will let you run into a 
 broken bridge and a swollen river. But get you 
 to horse as speedily as may be. Where is my 
 lord the count?" 
 
 " I am going to take leave of him," said Leo- 
 nora, ''and will show you the way." 
 
 " One moment, my lord," said Lorenzo, leading 
 his commander a little aside; ''tell me, I 
 beg, why I am not suffered to halt in Pavia. 
 There musi be something more than you have 
 said." 
 
 " Why, I believe it is simply this," answered 
 De Yitry, after a moment's thought; "the good 
 Count Regent is making a new road to Milan, lie 
 has alieady prepared to remove all the big rocks 
 in the way ; and the king thinks, and I think too, 
 that he might judge it expedient to sweep away 
 even the pebbles. The name of Visconti is not 
 pleasant to him, Lorenzo — there are many drng- 
 gists' shops in Pavia: so ask no more questions, 
 my good friend, but mount and away. God speed 
 you on your march and in your love. W^ell for 
 you that you took the dark-eyed cousin. If you
 
 LEONORA d'ORCO. 263 
 
 had chosen the other I would have cut your 
 throat." 
 
 No need to pause longer on the parting; no 
 need to follow them on that day's march, for it 
 was Avithout incident. It seemed very short too, 
 to the young lovers, although the distance was 
 greater than had been expected — all distances 
 are. The seven miles from the villa to Pavitiand 
 the seven miles iVoni Pavia to Belgiojoso stretched 
 themselves into full sixteen miles, which is con- 
 trary to all rules of arithmetic, but still it is an 
 invariable result. The day was charndng. It 
 was like youth : it might have been too warm 
 but fur certain cIoulIs vdiich shadowed the sky 
 from time to time, and tempered the ardour of 
 the sun. The heavy-armed horses suffered a 
 little: but at length the pretty village — for it 
 deserved not the name of town — which has since 
 given a famous name to a beautiful, higli-spirited, 
 but unfortunate lady, appeared before them about 
 four o'clock in the afternoon. Old St. Pierre, 
 the King's harbinger, had been there for
 
 264 LEONORA d'OPxCO. 
 
 some hours Avith his twenty lances; the quar- 
 ters were all marked out, and everything 
 prepared. 
 
 '' As the king must occupy his own ijdging 
 lirst, my lord," he said, '' 1 cannot give you the 
 Lest inn; hut there is a very pretty little place at 
 tlie edge of the village, where they seem good 
 people, and I reserved that for you. I did not 
 expect, indeed, so many ladies," he continued, 
 looking towards Leonora and her maids, '' hut I 
 dare say they can all be accommodated. Come 
 and s(e." 
 
 Luienzo rode on, with the old gentleman, who 
 was on foot, walking by the side of his horse and 
 talking all the time. The little inn to which he 
 led them is, I dare say, there still. It certainly 
 was so some twenty years ago — much changed, 
 doubtless, from what it was then, but still with 
 somewhat of the antique about it. There were 
 vines over both sides of the house, and the rooms 
 to the btick looked over the gardens, and small, 
 richly cultivated fields that surrounded the place.
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 265 
 
 The leaves of the vines were turning somewhat 
 yellow, and many a cluster had been already 
 plucked from the bough; but Leonora pro- 
 nounced it charming, and Lorenzo thought 
 so too. Happy had they both been if Fate 
 had never placed them in higher abodes. Oh, 
 those pinnacles; they are dangerous resting- 
 places. 
 
 Let us pass over an hour or two. The men 
 had been dispersed to their quarters and the 
 proper guard set; a light meal had been taken, 
 and the countrj* wine tasted; the maids had 
 found lodging, and were amusing themselves in 
 various ways, with which neither the writer nor 
 the reader has aught to do; Signora Mariana, 
 like a discreet dame, was dos'ng in an upper 
 chamber, and Lorenzo and Leonora were seated 
 together in the little saloon at the back of the 
 house, with the foliage trailing over the window 
 and its veranda, and a small but neat garden 
 stretching out down a little slope. They were 
 alone together; the dream was realised; and 
 what if they gave way to young, passionate love 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 as far as honor and virtue permitted. His arm 
 was round her ; the first kiss had been given and 
 repeated ; the beautiful head rested on his bosom, 
 and heart had been poured into heart in the 
 words which only passion can dictate and youth 
 supply. Ah ! they were very beautiful and very 
 happy ! and the attitude into which they had 
 cast themselves was such as painters might 
 copy, but not the most graceful fancy could 
 imagine. It was full of love, and confidence, and 
 nature. 
 
 As they sat, they were somewhat startled for a 
 moment by the sound of a lute played apparently 
 in the garden ; but it was not very near, and the 
 tones were so rich and full, the skill of the player 
 so exquisite, that instead of alarming the timidity 
 of young love, they only added to '' the loving 
 languor which is not repose" which before pos- 
 sessed them. 
 
 After listening for a moment, and gazing forth 
 through the open window, they resumed their 
 previous attitude, and continued their conversa- 
 tion.
 
 LEONORA D'ORCO. 267 
 
 Leonora's beautiful head again lay on Lorenzo's 
 bosom, with her look turned upward to his face, 
 while he gazed down into her eyes — those wells 
 of living light — with his head bowed over her, as 
 if the next moment his lips would stoop for a 
 kiss: and now and then a grave earnest look 
 would come upon their faces, while the words 
 came sometimes thick and fast, sometimes 
 ceased altogether, in the intensity of happiness 
 and feeling. 
 
 What made Lorenzo look suddenly up at the 
 end of about a quarter of an hour, he himself 
 could not tell; but the moment he turned his 
 eyes to the window he started and laid his hand 
 upon his sword. But then a voice of extraordinary 
 melody exclaimed, " Do not move ! for Heaven's 
 sake, do not move ! Alas ! you have lost it; you 
 can never assume that pose again; but, thank 
 Heaven, I can remember it, with what I have 
 already done." 
 
 The man who spoke was a remarkably hand- 
 some man of about forty-four or five years of 
 age, with a countenance of wonderful sweetness.
 
 268 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 He was dressed in a black velvet coat, with a 
 small cap of the same material on his head, and a 
 little feather in it. His seat was a large stone in 
 the garden just before the window, and on his 
 knee rested a curious-looking instrument, which 
 seemed the model of a horse's head cut in silver 
 and ivory. Upon it was stretched a small scrap 
 of paper, on which he still went on, tracing some- 
 thing with a pencil. 
 
 " This, sir, is hardly right," said Lorenzo, ad- 
 vancing to a door leading direct into the garden, 
 which, like the window, was wide open. "You 
 intrude upon our privacy somewhat boldly;" 
 but the next instant he exclaimed, in a voice of 
 delight, as he gazed over their strange visitor's 
 shoulder, " Good heaven ! how beautiful ! Leo- 
 nora! Leonora! Come hither and see yourself 
 depicted better than Yenetian mirror ever re- 
 fl ected that loved face and form." 
 
 " And you too, Lorenzo ! and you too !" ex- 
 claimed Leonora. " Oh ! it is perfect !" 
 
 The artist looked up and smiled with one of 
 those beaming smiles which seem to find their
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 269 
 
 way direct to the heart, as if an angel looked 
 into it, " 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 can 
 remember it. My mind, from long habit, is like 
 a note-book, in which every beautiful thing I 
 behold is written down as soon as seen. Look 
 how I will add in a moment all that is want- 
 ing," and he proceeded with rapid pencil to add 
 the arm of Lorenzo cast round Leonora's waist, 
 and her arm resting on her lap, with her hand 
 clasped in her lover's. 
 
 The colour came in the beautiful girl's cheek, 
 but without remarking it the artist said: 
 
 "Wasit not so?" 
 
 " Even so, I fear," murmured Leonora. 
 
 *'You must let me have this drawing," said 
 Lorenzo; "you can put no higher value on it 
 than I will be right glad to pay. It will be to 
 me a memorial of one of the happiest days of my 
 life, and of her I love better than life." 
 
 " Nay, I would not part with it for any pay- 
 ment," said the other; "but, having done as 
 
 N 5
 
 270 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 you said just now — intruded on your privacy — 
 I will pay for the intrusion by sketching for each 
 of you, the portrait of the other, and that with- 
 out price. But let us come into the saloon, and 
 call for lights; it is getting somewhat dark. 
 Will you, young gentleman, 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 ivory and silver. " Oh ! I 
 see; here is a finger-board, and the strings are 
 fastened to the lower jaw. I never saw a lute 
 like this." 
 
 "Probably not," the other answered; "it is 
 my own design and workmanship." 
 
 " Then was it you whom we heard playing, 
 just now?" asked Leonora. "The music was 
 divine." 
 
 " It might be so," answered the artist gaily, 
 " for Cupid was very near — tbough I knew not 
 of the god's neighbourhood — and it is the nature 
 of all godlike beings to cast their influence far 
 around them, and raise common things toward 
 divinity. He is a mighty deity that Cupid,
 
 LEONORA d'oRCO. 271 
 
 and, Avlien worshipped purely, has precious gifts 
 for the sons of men. You two are very young," 
 he continued, thoughtfully, " and doubtless 
 noble." 
 
 " We are young," answered Lorenzo, " and 
 noble as far as blood is concerned. Noble in a 
 better sense I trust we are likewise. Here is 
 one, at least, who is, and what may be wanting 
 in myself my love for her 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 pure love 
 ennobles him who feels it; and well, young gen- 
 tleman, have you distinguished between two no- 
 bilities. Yet, constituted as this world is — nay, 
 not only as this world, but as man himself is' — 
 there must always be a factitious nobility, which 
 in the eyes of the world, will rise above the 
 other. The notion of anything like equality 
 ever existing among men is a dream of human 
 vanity, contrary to all experience, and to the 
 manifest will of God. The only reason why
 
 272 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 men ever entertained it is that the lower intel- 
 lects feel their selfishness wounded at ac- 
 knowledging they are inferior. Now, as the 
 lower intellects predominate immensely in point 
 of numbers, and all their vanities combine to 
 pull down those superior to their own level, you 
 will always find democratic republics attempted 
 in those countries where there is no great pre- 
 dominance of intellect in any, or that predomi- 
 nance is confined to a very few. If there be 
 one intellect vastly superior to any others, the 
 constitution of the state will soon become a mo- 
 narchy ; if there be more than one or two greatly 
 above the rest, you will have an aristocracy, and 
 the natural order, as far as I have seen in the 
 world, will be the monarch representing the 
 highest intellect and most powerful will; an 
 aristocracy representing those next in mental 
 powers ; and below them the plebeians, represent- 
 ing the great mass of stupidity and ignorance 
 which exist in this world — the weak, the vicious, 
 the thoughtless, the idle, the brutal, the bar-
 
 LEONORA D'oRCO.^ 273 
 
 baro;is. Granted that tliese several classes will 
 not long justly represent the reality ; but still the 
 order is the natural order, and men strive 
 against it in vain. We have seen these demo- 
 cratic republics tried over and over again in 
 this our Italy, producing misery and disorder 
 during their existence, and all tending to the 
 same consummation.'^ 
 
 " But how is equality among men contrary to 
 the will of God!" asked Lorenzo; "the in- 
 carnate Son of God himself seems to have 
 preached such a doctrine." 
 
 " I humbly think you are mistaken," answered 
 the artist. " On the contrary he always incul- 
 cated submission to our superiors. But you ask 
 how is it contrary to the manifest will of God? 
 I reply, not only by the diiference of mere 
 worldly advantages which he has bestowed upon 
 various men, for that might depend upon a false 
 and mistaken scheme of society, but by the dif- 
 ference of mental and spiritual powers which he 
 himself has ordained and bestowed, without any
 
 274 LEONORA D'ORCO. 
 
 intervention of man or of man's will. Take one 
 of the many idiots, or half idiots, who sit upon 
 the steps of St. John at Eome, and place him by 
 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 the idiot, the 
 lowest to Lorenzo, what would be the result? The 
 one would tower above the other with his gigantic 
 mind, the other would remain an intellectual 
 pigmy ; the one would be a prince of thought, the 
 other a plebeian. Here is an inequality decreed 
 by God himself; and although I have taken an 
 extreme case, you will find the same rule per- 
 vade all minds and all natures. No man has the 
 same capabilities. Every gift is unequally ap- 
 portioned; and the same Almighty Being who 
 gives to ono man wealth and to another poverty, 
 to one man the stature of a hero, to another the 
 height of a dwarf, has decreed that inequality of 
 station against which the vanity of multitudes 
 struggles in vain. I myself am a plebeian, you 
 are nobles, yet I would not alter the order of
 
 LEONORA D^ORCO. 275 
 
 society if I could. But let us change the topic; 
 or, while this sweet half light still lingers 
 in the west, I will play upon my favourite 
 lute again, and let you hear some verses 
 which flow somewhat with the current of our 
 thoughts." 
 
 For a moment he leaned his cheek against 
 the instrument, struck a few chords, put 
 the strings in perfect tune, and then, with 
 the skill of a great musician, drew forth 
 harmonies such as were seldom heard in those 
 days. A minute or two after, his voice, 
 far sweeter than any sounds which could be 
 brought from the lute, joined in, and he sang 
 some 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 restrain 
 To will within his power; he ne'er shall will in vain.
 
 276 LEONORA d'ORCO. 
 
 " Yet many ajoy and many woe, 
 
 From knowing or not knowing what to will, 
 In sweet and bitter drops distil. 
 For from ourselves om- 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. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 T. C. Newby, Printer, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square.
 
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