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 LI E) R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 

 
 GIULIO MALATESTA 
 
 a jaobti. 
 
 T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " LA BEATA," " MARIETTA," &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 CIL\PMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1863. 
 
 [The,Ri'jht of Translation referred.]
 
 Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 witii funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/giuliomalatestan01trol
 
 S2 3> 
 V. 3 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. III. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 (CONTINUED.) 
 
 THE URSULINES AT MONTEPULCIANO. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. PAGK 
 
 A T£te-a-T£te in the Sacristy 3 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 The Abbess and her Pupil 17 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 SANTA CROCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Captain Malatesta's Letters 43 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Marta Varani 59 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Sealed Packet 84
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. PAGE 
 
 Stella's Return Home 110 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GlULTO IN FlOEENCE ONCE MORE 134 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Requiem in Santa Croce 160 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 THE MAECHESE MALATESTA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Marchese Floeimond and Carlo Brancacci . . 185 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Archbishop's Cilancery 206 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Carlo Brancacci and the Abbess 222 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Carlo's Supper 242 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Mother and Son 262 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GiuLTo's Diagram . . . • • • • 292 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Conclusion ^1^
 
 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 (continued.) 
 
 THE URSULINES AT MONTEPULCIANO. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 / 
 
 B
 
 GIULIO MALATESTA, 
 
 CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 A TETE-A-TETE IN THE SACRISTY. 
 
 It is probable, as has been liinted, that the ec- 
 clesiastical superiors who had selected Sister Mad- 
 dalena for promotion from the remote convent at 
 Ascoli, to be the Superior of the Ursulines of Santa 
 Filomena at Montepulciano, had done so mth the 
 intention of refreshing mth a certain modicum of 
 gTeatly-needed new wine those old bottles of theh's, 
 which had become terribly musty mider the regime 
 of immobility, which was now beginning to be 
 shaken. But that poiuing in of new wine under 
 such circumstances is a difficult and dan onerous 
 ex]^)eriment, which we know on high authority is 
 little likely to answer the pm-pose intended. And 
 it seemed likely in the case in question that the 
 b2
 
 4 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 attempt would issue in a catastrophe analogous to 
 that mentioned in the sacred parable. 
 
 The fermentation caused by this new wine in 
 the old Montepulciano bottles, seemed likely to be 
 gi'eater than the strength of them could stand. 
 Innoyation and heresy are to many minds almost 
 synonymous terms. And there are yarious de- 
 partments of orthodoxy in which the instinct that 
 prompts this feeling is not a delusiye one. The 
 old nuns in the Ursuline conyent were not far 
 "SM.'ong in thinking that change of any kind in their 
 ways, practices, and habits, was dangerous to them ; 
 as change of habits of life mostly is to the old and 
 infirm. 
 
 It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that a 
 spirit of disaffection and insubordination was ripe 
 in the conyent under the new rule. And absolute 
 as is the theoiy of conyentual obedience, and 
 high as is the notion we outsiders especially are 
 apt to entertain of the milimited power of the 
 Superior of a religious house, it is an absolutism 
 difficult to be maintained — like other absolutisms 
 — in the face of a disaffection at all general among 
 the subjects of it. 
 
 It was a few days after the discontented mem- 
 bers of the community had been scandalised anew 
 by the unheard-of strangeness of the Holy Mother 
 haying been closeted with a pensioner of the house
 
 A TETE-A-TETE IN THE SACRISTY. 5 
 
 during an entire morning, that a more orthodox and 
 less unexampled tete-a-tete took place in the sacristy 
 of the convent chapel, at the pleasant evening hour 
 before the Ave Maria. The parties were Sister 
 Giuseppa and the Keverend Domenico Tondi, the 
 Chancellor of the Diocese ; and their confidential con- 
 versation was an altogether warrantable, orthodox, 
 and correct proceeding. For, was not the Reverend 
 Domenico Tondi also the ^'Director" of theUrsulines 
 of Santa Filomena ? And was not Sister Giuseppa 
 the Vice-Superior of the convent, no new disposi- 
 tion having been as yet taken by the new Abbess 
 to place any other in her stead in that position ? 
 
 The sacristy in which these two persons were sit- 
 ting was a snug-looking room enough, though some- 
 what gloomy, except when the setting sun sent an il- 
 Imninating gleam athwart it, through the one win- 
 dow placed so high in the wall as to afford no view of 
 the convent garden on which it opened. It was en- 
 tirely lined from floor to ceiling vA\\\ a series of dark 
 walnut-wood presses in double tier, the centre of the 
 doors of which were ornamented \\\i\\ large round 
 brass knobs, rubbed up, as well as the shining wood 
 around them, to a perfect polish. There were two 
 breaks only besides the ^^indow in the continuity 
 of this polished walnut-wood lining. One opposite 
 to the window extended in a strip, some five feet 
 wide from floor to ceilino;, and was occupied by a
 
 6 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 large crucifix above, and by a massive faldstool 
 beneath it. The other uncovered space of wall ex- 
 tended only half the height of the apartment from 
 the floor, the range of presses being carried on 
 without inteiTuption above it. And the space thus 
 left was occupied by a little conduit of red marble, 
 ■\\^th a water-cock above it, and a long circular 
 towel on a roller by its side. There were two doors, 
 also of walnut-wood, and so made as to form to the 
 eye no inteiTuption to the range of presses. Both 
 of them were in one corner of the room. One 
 opened on to the little church, and the other on to a 
 corridor communicating mth the interior of the 
 convent. In the middle of the room was a large, 
 oblong, massive table, the space beneath which, in- 
 stead of being void, save for the legs of it, after 
 the fashion of ordinary tables, was filled up with a 
 series of large drawers. The top of the table was 
 covered with a green baize cloth. There were 
 three or foui* straight-backed, square-made ami- 
 chairs, T\ath ancient stamped leather seats and 
 backs, fairly indicating them to be at least three 
 hundred years old; and there was an old con- 
 temporary of theirs — a large and handsome brass 
 brazier, resting on an iron tripod, the admirable 
 ornamentation of which unmistakably declared its 
 cinqiiecentista origin. 
 
 The declining sun, as the closing day approached
 
 A TETE-A-TETE IN THE SACRISTY. 7 
 
 the Ave !Maria, sliot a mellow golden ray through 
 the high window, which lay like a great glistening 
 stripe across the threadbare green baize top of the 
 huge table ; sparkled on the brass of the brazier, 
 played on the polished panel of the opposite wall 
 in a strange variety of high lights and demi-lights 
 and shadows, and concentrated itself on the bur- 
 nished brazen knob in the centre of it \\ith an in- 
 tensity that made it appear like a ball of fire. The 
 great crucifix was left in deep shadow, as were also 
 the two occupants of the room, who sat side by side 
 near one end of the table ; and by ^-irtue of the 
 strikingly characterised hannony of then' appear- 
 ance with the locahty and all the objects around 
 them, formed a group which might well be called 
 pictui'esque, though it could not be said to possess 
 any of the elements of the beautiful. 
 
 The tall, gaunt figm^e, the hard featm'es, and 
 black brows of Sister Giuseppa, are already kno^vn 
 to the reader. Don Domenico Tondi, the Chan- 
 cellor of the Diocese and Director of the Convent, 
 was a dried-up little man, ^^^th a head and face of 
 a triangular form, with a minimmn of brain packed 
 into the apex, and a maximum of animalism cUs- 
 tenchng the base, across the whole extent of which 
 a mde, lipless mouth, cut like that of a toad, was 
 stretched from comer to comer, so near the lower 
 side of the triangle as to leave scarcely any room
 
 8 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 for a cliin. Close under this strange wide and 
 sliort lower jaw, came the rim of his ecclesiastical 
 collar, which was of so nearly the same yellow as 
 the whole of his face, that it needed a close glance 
 to see wdiere the dirty skin ended and the dirty 
 linen began. The huge shoes on his feet, much 
 larger, apparently, than necessary, w^ould hardly 
 have offended the ideas of St. Chrysostom upon 
 that subject. The cm'iously coarse worsted stock- 
 ings above them were not darned, but pieced with 
 fragments of bro\\ai cloth; and the black camlet 
 garment next above them was almost entirely 
 hidden, as he sat, by a blue checked cotton hand- 
 kerchief, much begrimed with snuff, laid across his 
 knees. His cloth w^aistcoat was alsc gi'imy from 
 the same cause from top to bottom. 
 
 " That makes five clear sins, of which four are 
 decidedly grave, and two of them probably mortal," 
 said Don Domenico, ticking off the bill on the 
 fingers of his left hand, wdiile he held a pinch of 
 his favomite dust between the thumb and fore- 
 finger of his right; "and three opportunities of 
 cardinal virtues neglected ! " He was speaking of 
 the short-comings of the new Abbess, according to 
 Sister Giuseppa's report of her conduct, the par- 
 ticulars of Avhich he had been sortino;, tariffino^, and 
 labelling secundum artem, with the above result. 
 
 " Oh ! we are not at the end yet, most excellent
 
 A TETE-A-TETE IN THE SACEISTY. U 
 
 fatlier! There are things which your holy con- 
 science would never dream of, and which I could 
 never bring myself to repeat, if it were not for the 
 glory of God and the credit of the house/' rejoined 
 Sister Giuseppa, crossing herself as she spoke. 
 
 "Eh!" said Don Domenico, sharply, suddenly 
 arresting in his newly-awakened interest the hand 
 which was conve}ang to his nose a pinch of snuff ; 
 " in our position, my dear sister in Christ, it is our 
 bounden duty to allow no scruples of delicacy to 
 interfere with perfect openness between us. I ^^dll 
 look the other way, dear sister, while you commu- 
 nicate the facts," added the Director, com'teously 
 offering the old woman his snuff-box as he spoke. 
 
 Sister Giuseppa took as large a pinch as her 
 finger and thumb would hold, and savoured it 
 leisui'ely \vith uptmiied nose, before she replied, 
 advancing her mouth towards his ear, and hissing 
 out the terrible word, " Heresy ! padre mio ! a 
 clear case of heresy !" 
 
 " Oh — h — h !" said Don Domenico, with an 
 accent of disappointment in his tone ; " heresy ! 
 Heresy, is it ? Humph ! Heresy, my good 
 Giuseppa, is a malady of which it needs, perhaps, 
 greater skill than yours to read the symptoms." 
 
 " I am but a poor nun, your reverence," said 
 the old woman, evidently nettled at the small effect 
 her communication had produced, "but I haven't
 
 10 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 served the Lord for upwai'ds of half a century with- 
 out learning to Iviiow the savour of heresy when it 
 comes near me ! A pure conscience and zeal for 
 the glory of God mil stand in the place of book- 
 learning!" 
 
 " No doubt ! no doubt ! ^Yliat is the case, my 
 excellent sister in Cln^st ? " asked the Director. 
 
 " Wliy ! what does your reverence think of her 
 forbidcUng us to avail oui'selves of the holy 
 privileges and dispensation you, yourself, in the 
 exercise of youi' knowai discretion and exalted 
 piety, have deigned to procure for this holy house *? 
 What do you think of that? If that be not a 
 questioning of the dispensing power of our Holy 
 Father, I should like to know what is ! And if 
 any devout and lowly-minded Christian cannot 
 smell heresy there, more shame and pity for them ; 
 that is all I say ! " 
 
 " And you say very well, my sister in Christ ! 
 excellently well!" returned the Dh'ector. "This 
 new Superior," he continued, inhaling a great 
 pmch of snuff, and nodding his head slowly up 
 and doA\^i, "must be one of that sort — a very 
 dangerous and pestilential sort, indeed ! But, my 
 dear sister, it is necessary to be prudent in these 
 cases, — it is necessary to be veiy prudent ! We 
 live in bad times, — in bad and strange times, Sister 
 Giuseppa! There is backsliding and lukewarm-
 
 A TETE-A-TETE IX THE SACRISTY. 11 
 
 ness ill liigli places ! The world is not what it 
 was ! And — God forbid that I should speak or 
 even think e^^l of those placed in spiritual autho- 
 rity over me ! and I would not say such a thing 
 for the world ! — only to you, Sister Giuseppa, who 
 are a prudent, a God-fearing woman, I may say — 
 between om'selves, you know, quite between om- 
 selves — that om' own Bishop here is but a poor 
 creatm-e I I pity liim ^ith all my heart, in a 
 position in which knowledge, judgment, energ}^, 
 zeal, are required. For he is an excellent, worthy 
 man ! but the vainest, weakest, shallowest crea- 
 tm-e I — no learning ! less industry ! AjuI so worldly 
 and self-seeking ! — We live in bad times, sister ! " 
 
 " Ah ! bad times indeed ! cai^o mio padre. I 
 remember when Monsignore came here ten years 
 ago — it T\ill be eleven years next Nati^dty of the 
 Blessed Virgin — I said at the time — though I 
 always speak of the right reverend father with 
 that respect which his holy office demands, and 
 even ^rith reverence — (for you cannot expect more 
 from any one than the Holy Spirit has given him) 
 — ^I said at the time that it seemed strange, and, as 
 it were, a refusal of the blessings of Pro\4dence, 
 to brincr a stranger to the diocese, when we had 
 among us one so well fitted in eveiy way for the 
 position as Don Domenico Tondi, I said. Things 
 would have been different in Montepulciano, and
 
 12 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 in this house, if those above us had seen with my 
 eyes !" 
 
 " God's will be done !" ejaculated the Director, 
 with a shrug and a grimace, wdiich seemed to add 
 an expression of " since there's no help for it !" to 
 the pious sentiment. 
 
 "Ah! God's will be done!" re-echoed the nun, 
 holding out her fingers towards the priest's snuff- 
 box, in a manner that compelled the offer of 
 another pinch. 
 
 " But there was one thing, carissimo mio |>a^r^, 
 which afflicted me, God forgive me for it, even 
 more grievously than her very e\ddent and most 
 pestilent heresy ! She has strictly forbidden that 
 devout woman, om' cook, Guglielmina, to make any 
 more of those little confections and patties which 
 yoiu' reverence and one or two others of the good 
 friends of the house were so fond of ! She has 
 positively refused to alloAv any more to be sent 
 from the convent to any one ! under pretence that 
 whatever we can spare from our slender revenues 
 ought to be employed in a different manner ! Oh ! 
 It is very abominable." 
 
 " It is the wall of the Lord to try us, my sister !" 
 ejaculated the priest, while a hescvy scowl passed 
 over his featm-es. "But as for this shameless 
 woman, what you tell me is certainly a sin against 
 the holy virtue of charity, and I am xery much
 
 A TETE-A-TETE IX THE SACRISTY. 13 
 
 inclined to think," he added, tapping his snuff- 
 box as he spoke, "at least constructively a sin 
 against the Holy Spmt !" 
 
 " No ! you don't say so ! " exclaimed Sister Giu- 
 seppa, with a gleam of gratified malice in her eye. 
 "Ah! yom- reverence, it is you who are a great theo- 
 logian! Ma propria un peccato contra lo Sjmnto 
 Santo !^^* she added, thro^^^ng up her head, as she 
 savoured her pinch of snuff and her odium theo- 
 logicum together with exquisite gusto, " who would 
 have thought it! But that is what it is to be a 
 profound canonist ! " 
 
 " Mind ! I said constructively/ ^ Sister Giuseppa, 
 constructively ! And I am free to own that such 
 is my opinion. But die vuole ? What would 
 you have ? We live in degenerate times ! Still 
 something ought to be done. It is very mon- 
 strous ! " 
 
 " Surely, your reverence, in your position, and 
 with your immense science, will be able to take 
 some steps for the protection of our poor house ! — 
 you, my father, who, after the blessed St. Ursula 
 and the holy Filomena," said Sister Giuseppa, 
 crossing herself in compHment to the two first- 
 named patrons, and with a leer of holy coaxing to 
 
 * " But really a sin against the Holy Spirit." Really hardly 
 expresses the full force of the " proprio," which involves a " Come ! 
 really now ! you don't say that," sort of meaning.
 
 14 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 the tliird, "have ever been our protector and most 
 efficacious patron ! " 
 
 " We must see what is to be done ! " replied the 
 Director ; " we must consider what steps can 
 be taken. In the mean time, be vigilant, Sister 
 Giuseppa! This holy house, and I may say the 
 Church, expect it at yoiu" hands! Keep a strict 
 and holy watch ! And perhaps you may be able 
 — ^you understand ^" 
 
 "Trust me to keep my eyes open, your reve- 
 rence ! Trust old Sister Giuseppa — a simple nun 
 — ^to do her part !" 
 
 "But caution!" said the priest, holding up a 
 black-nailed forefinger in front of his snuffy nose, 
 and sinking his voice to a whisper ; " caution and 
 vigilance !" 
 
 "^ clii lo dice!" retmnied the nun. "I shall 
 have the advantage of speaking with yom' paternity 
 again ere long?" 
 
 " Assuredly ! assm-edly ! my sister in Christ ! 
 Ah ! if certain folks had had the holy discernment 
 to place you at the head of this house !" 
 
 " Oh ! reverendissimo padre ! If it had but 
 pleased the Lord so to illuminate the hearts of 
 princes, as that your reverence should have been 
 put in the place that was due to you !" 
 
 " A rivederci dunqiie, sorella mia ! " * said the 
 
 * " Au revoir, my sister."
 
 A TETE-A-TETE IN THE SACEISTY. 15 
 
 Director, as he passed out of the sacristy by the 
 door leading to the church, giving his benedic- 
 tion as he went by the usual flourish of his dirty 
 fingers. 
 
 " A rivederci, riverenza I " returned the nun, 
 bowing lowly, mth her arms crossed upon her 
 bosom. 
 
 Before the Director had been gone an hour. 
 Sister Giuseppa had found an opportunity of 
 whispering her great news into the sympathising 
 ear of Sister Maria : 
 
 " I have had a lons[ conversation mth our Direc- 
 tor, sister ! — such a consoling conversation ! The 
 holy man places great confidence in me !" 
 
 "In whom better could he place confidence, 
 Sister Giuseppa! And what does his paternity 
 say?" 
 
 " Sister Maria ! we have a Superior who has 
 been guilty of sin against the Holy Spirit ! " said 
 the other, hissing the words into the ear of her 
 hearer. 
 
 " Holy Virgin and gracious St. Ursula keep 
 and preserve us ! " exclaimed Sister Maria, cross- 
 ing herself ever so many times in rapid succession. 
 
 " Hush — h — h ! Pmdence, Sister Maria ! The 
 Director recommends to us the utmost prudence ! 
 Yes ! a clear case of sin against the Holy Spirit ! " 
 replied Sister Giuseppa, repeatmg the words with
 
 16 GTULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 an infinite relish. " Nothing less than that ! "\Yliat 
 do you think of it ? Oh ! he is a great theologian, 
 our blessed Director ! " 
 
 " It is ^'ery dreadful, Sister Giuseppa ! " 
 
 " Ah ! horrible. Sister Maria ! But a very 
 blessed thing, and a great grace of the Virgin, 
 that it should be discovered ! I thought as much 
 when I laid the facts before his paternity. Oh ! 
 I knew there was something very bad ! But, pru- 
 dence. Sister Maria ! " 
 
 " A chi lo dite ! Sister Giuseppa." 
 
 And so, before the same h6ur on the follomng 
 evening, a mysterious whisper had passed through 
 all the community, and every member of it was 
 aware that some almost unmentionable horror had 
 been providentially discovered with reference to the 
 new Abbess ! And the nuns were seizing eveiy 
 opportunit}' of getting into corners by twos and 
 threes, to ask and tell rumom-s, and communicate 
 ideas respecting the terrible news. And before 
 long the great question which divided the opinions 
 of the sisterhood was, whether the new Abbess 
 would be burned within the convent walls, or on 
 the principal piazza of the city.
 
 17 
 
 CHAPTER yil. 
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 
 
 It soon became impossible for tlie Abbess to 
 avoid observing that there was something amiss 
 between her and the members of the sisterhood 
 under her government, and that their sentiments 
 with regard to her were not such as were desu'able. 
 Nevertheless, as the Director's injunctions as to 
 "caution" and "prudence" were observed most 
 sedulously, she was wholly at a loss for any expla- 
 nation of the unpleasant s^Tiiptoms which forced 
 themselves on her notice. Least of all did it occm- 
 to her to imaoine that her intercourse with one of 
 the yomig persons placed mider her special care 
 could fomi any part of the grounds of discontent 
 Avith her government of the convent. And it was 
 inevitable that what had passed between her and 
 
 VOL. HI. C
 
 18 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Stella at their last intendew should make that 
 mtercoui'se closer and still more confidential for 
 the futm'e. The tie which henceforth bound them 
 together was far too strong an one to be severed 
 or weakened by the etiquette of convent discipline, 
 even if either of them had been aware of the 
 extent to which they were considered to be sinning 
 against it. Henceforward for ever the heart-life 
 of these two women was to be centred in one and 
 the same individual. Their hopes, fears, and inte- 
 rests were, of com'se, the same, then' mshes iden- 
 tical ; and the goal, which represented to the 
 ardent imamnation of the youna;er the full attain- 
 ment of all that earth had to offer of happiness, 
 could not but shine out as a dim distant star to the 
 resuscitated heart of the elder, like the nascent 
 glimmering of the possibility of a joy in that 
 futm'e, where till now all had been dead, arid, and 
 barren as the desert. 
 
 But it would have been a curious study, not so 
 much of the innate differences between one human 
 temperament and another, as between the results 
 of different com'ses of life-disciplme on the subjects 
 of them, to mark the differences in the effect pro- 
 duced by the discovery they had both of them made 
 on these two women. 
 
 Stella Altamari had received from nature a 
 stronger moral fibre, a greater power of A'olition,
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 19 
 
 and a bolder temperament, tlian Maddalena Tacca. 
 Youth, moreover, is bolder and more sanguine 
 than advanced life. Yet more is a heart Avhicli 
 has gro^^i in the world's sunshine braver than one 
 which has kno\^ai only its cold shade. But greatest 
 difference of all between those two in the capacity 
 of hopefulness, in the elasticity which can rise 
 from the depression of past son'ows to fresh 
 struggles and new aims, was that which resulted 
 from the twenty years of living death which had 
 made half the existence of the latter. A distant 
 gliimnering of the possibility of a feehng of joy 
 had been manifested, as has been said, to the 
 resuscitated heart of the woman who had been 
 so long in her moral grave. But resuscitation is 
 never otherwise than painful. The sm-est mark of 
 the intensity of suffering is the limitation of the 
 sufferer's desires to absolute repose, and the cessa- 
 tion of all sensation. The moral nature cleaves to 
 moral life, and abominates moral death with as 
 strong an instinct as the physical body abhors 
 physical death. And the heart may suffer much, 
 and turn eagerly at natm'e's kindly and beneficent 
 prompting to new hopes and aims. But the heart 
 which has suffered most is that which limits its 
 aspirations to the moral death of absolute vacancy ; 
 which dreads a new affection even as the quivering 
 nerves di'ead another turn of the tormentor's screw ; 
 c2
 
 20 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 which has learned to distrust life so profoundly, 
 that it clings to the numbed immobility of annihi- 
 lation. 
 
 This was the condition of heart and mind in 
 which the discovery made by Stella and herself 
 had found the Abbess. Twenty years ago her 
 babe had been torn from her bosom, and she had 
 been consigned to a gi'ave where it appeared im- 
 possible that any further tidings of him should 
 reach her. If any half-conscious hope had lin- 
 gered for a while in her heart, it had long since 
 perished. And now the numbed heart was to be 
 wakened from its long trance, the blood was to 
 tingle again in its old cm-rents, the pulses to be 
 set beating afresh ! A strange fear and trembling, 
 like that which prisoners have felt when called, 
 after long, long years of confinement in dark cells, 
 to come forth into the light of day, fell upon the 
 Abbess when the possibilities of the futm-e shaped 
 themselves in her mind. 
 
 Stella saw only cause of mimixed delight in the 
 discovery she had made ! Wliat a joy for Giulio ! 
 His mother found ! and such a mother ! And she 
 had been the discoverer 1 Oh ! the pleasm-e of 
 instantlv writintr her o-reat tidino-s ! There would 
 bs no difficulty in sending her letter now ! She 
 should be the means of bringing the long lost son 
 and long lost mother to each other's aims ! And,
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 21 
 
 of course, A\dtli such an aid on her side as the 
 Abbess, her family "svould soon be brought to hear 
 reason ! 
 
 Poor little sanguine Stella was doomed, there- 
 fore, to a painful shock of disappointment when 
 she was called to her next mterview -v^-ith the 
 Superior. She had been a good deal sm-prised 
 that this call had not come on the verv' next day. 
 Was it possible to suppose that the Abbess could 
 be aught but overjoyed at the discovery! Then 
 occmTed to her mind a horrible suspicion that the 
 discovery of her son's attachment to her might be 
 as displeasing to the Abbess as the finchng of her 
 son must be a som'ce of unmixed rejoicing. At 
 all events, did she not want to 'hear a thousand 
 things which only she, Stella, could tell her ? 
 
 She little guessed, nor could have understood, 
 had it been told her, that evers' hour of the inter- 
 vening time had been passed by the Abbess be- 
 tween dread of and longing for the conversation 
 for which the younger and stronger heart was so 
 eager! that she had been nervdng herself for the 
 interview ^vith fear and trembling ! 
 
 At last the summons came. And Stella 
 found the Abbess seated exactly as she had 
 been on the former occasions. But even her 
 young eye perceived at once that she was changed. 
 She had been pallid, subdued in manner, and even
 
 22 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 sad in accent and in bearing. But she had not 
 been beaten dovm. as she seemed now, when Stella 
 fancied that she onght to be rejoicing in the great 
 glad tidings that had so unexpectedly come to her. 
 Her eyes seemed sunken in her head, and her face 
 swollen -with weeping, and there was a languor of 
 hopelessness in the droop of her head upon her 
 bosom which was very different from the quiet, 
 graceful dignity of her pre^dous bearing. 
 
 She got up, however, as Stella entered the room, 
 and advancing a step from her chair to meet her, 
 took her head in her hands, and, pressing it against 
 her bosom, kissed her on the forehead. 
 
 " Sit doAA^i, my daughter ! we have much, very- 
 much, to say to each other — much that each of us 
 must be so eager to hear ! " 
 
 "And, in truth, dearest mother," Stella could 
 not abstain from saying, "I had hoped to have 
 been called to your presence sooner ! " 
 
 " No doubt ! no doubt ! my child. And I ought 
 to have considered your natm^al impatience more. 
 But — Stella — I am but a poor broken creatm^e. I 
 have been much shaken " 
 
 " But it must have been a great joy to you, my 
 mother, to have found — we may call it found — 
 your lost son, and such a son, my mother ! " 
 
 " Yes ! dearest Stella ! a great, a fearful joy ! " 
 
 The Abbess had never before made use of so
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 23 
 
 lo\'ing a mode of adcb'ess in speaking to her, and 
 Stella was encom-aged by it to say : 
 
 " And the joy is not diminished, dearest mother, 
 by the knowledge that the son thus discovered loves 
 me?" 
 
 " Dear child ! " replied the Abbess, placing her 
 hand affectionately on Stella's head, " assm^edly the 
 joy is not diminished, — but the fear is increased ! " 
 
 " Why should there be fear at all, my mother ? " 
 asked Stella, after a short pause, during which she 
 had been endeavouring, unsuccessfully, to fathom 
 the Abbess's meaning. 
 
 " My Stella ! Can yoii ask such a question ! 
 What fear ? Yet it is natural that it should appear 
 so to yom- mind ! You know not what it is to have 
 
 but, at any rate, my Stella, you must be aware 
 
 of the difficulties that are before us as regards 
 
 the attachment of you and Giulio for each 
 
 other?" 
 
 '^But if I — if we have your approbation, my 
 mother, that is a difficulty the less, not a difficulty 
 the more in oui* path." 
 
 " How so, my child ? " 
 
 " You mil not lend yom' aid, my mother, to en- 
 force upon me the terrible alternative of a mar- 
 riage with the Marchese Alfonso, or the taking of 
 the veil. You will support me in refusing at least 
 the latter fate, ^vill you not, my mother ? "
 
 24 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " That, in any case, I should have clone to the 
 best of my power, my daughter. But, alas ! what 
 can that power avail I There are other convents, 
 even if the Canon Altamari should not prefer 
 using his influence to place a new Superior in 
 this." 
 
 " But surely, my mother, it would be difficult to 
 insist on my becoming a nun after one Superior 
 had declined to admit me to profession because I 
 had openly declared that I had no vocation for that 
 state ! " m'ged Stella. 
 
 " And would it add, think you, my child, to my 
 authority on the subject, when it became known 
 that your object in refusing the veil was to marry 
 and confer your large possessions on the son of 
 the Abbess who pronounced you unfitted for the 
 vows?" 
 
 " But you will not give me up, my mother ! 
 You would not stand by and see me forced against 
 my will into a cloister ! " pleaded Stella, who was 
 already beginning to lose some of the golden illu- 
 sions with which the discovery of — as it seemed to 
 her hopes — a mother-in-law in the Abbess had in- 
 spired her. 
 
 "I fear me, my dear child, that the discovery 
 we have made may have the effect of increasing 
 the difficulties before you, and not diminishing 
 them ! My heart misgives me that it may be so.
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 25 
 
 And for that reason — mainly for that reason — I 
 have felt terrified at that which is before us ! 
 Think you, my child, that it ^\dll help yom- hopes, 
 when it shall be fomid out that he who asks your 
 hand is the son of a cloistered nun ! " 
 
 "But we knew before — Giulio was till now 
 motherless. And — and — the circumstances mider 
 which you — were separated from him " 
 
 '^ I fear, my poor child, that you do not under- 
 stand the rules and principles which govern the 
 world in such matters ! " said the Abbess, with a 
 heavy sigh. 
 
 "At all events, my mother, there ^^^ill be the 
 great, great happiness for Giulio and for you ! 
 And for the rest, Giulio ^vill know what is best to 
 be done. At all events, he will come here ! I shall 
 see him ! I am sm'e that all will then be well !" 
 
 " My child ! my child ! you make me tremble ! 
 Bethink yourself a little, Stella ! " 
 
 And, in fact, the Abbess was alarmed and 
 almost aghast at Stella's eagerness, and sanguine 
 persuasion that all they had to do was to cry aloud 
 from the house-top the discovery they had made. 
 Dm-ing the long hours of the days and nights since 
 the previous interview with Stella, she had been 
 painfully meditating on the future, and on the 
 course which it would be ^^asest and best to pursue. 
 Her heart yearned to her child. The maternal
 
 26 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 instincts which had so long lain dead beneath the 
 pall of conventual moral lethargy, had been power- 
 fully aroused. But it was still to the babe that 
 had been taken from her bosom that her heart 
 and her imagination tmned. And it seemed to 
 her feelings as if it were but a false and delusory 
 gi'atification of her maternal yearning to bring a 
 bearded man to her in the place of the babe she 
 had lost. Then there Avere doubts and fears of a 
 more reasoned sort. Should she not be bringing 
 evil to her son by the discovery of herself ? He 
 had made his way to a prosperous and honourable 
 position in the world. Would not the knowledge 
 that his mother was an unmanned cloistered nun 
 be a sore disadvantage to him? Would such 
 knowledge be welcome to him ? Would his fihal 
 feeling be strong enough to stand against the senti- 
 ment with which we are apt to regard those who 
 are injui'ious and inconvenient to us ? Might she 
 not, by making herself known to her son, be going 
 in quest of new heart-laceration and the re-opening 
 of loner-closed wounds ? Had she the coui'age to 
 face all these risks ? Would unbiased wisdom 
 counsel her to do so ? 
 
 And all these mechtations had led her to the 
 issue to which similar doubts and fears usually 
 bring timid and iiTesolute doubters. At all events, 
 it would be best to wait — not to be too precipitate
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 27 
 
 — to feel the way — to sound the mind of her son. 
 She would have the means of doing this effectually 
 by the co-operation of Stella. By degrees he 
 might be prepared for the revelation. Then, 
 again, as to his and Stella's attachment. It could 
 hardly be but that the precipitate disclosm'e of her 
 secret would make their difficulties greater. She 
 saw but small hope for them in any case. She had 
 not sufficient knowledge of the world to be fully 
 aware of the violence of the opposition that would 
 of com'se be made to such a marriage as that be- 
 tween a fortuneless captain in the Piechnontese 
 servdce and the richest heh'ess in Tuscany. But 
 she knew that the lady's family objected, and she 
 had an exaggerated notion of the power of a gi'eat 
 and wealthy family. 
 
 The more she looked at the matter in eveiy 
 point of view, the more she felt that it would be 
 the height of imprudence to divulge the secret 
 prematurely ; and that, at all events, the doing so 
 would require the courage and decision of which 
 she was not capable. And she was, in truth, ter- 
 rified at finding that Stella had no other idea on 
 the subject than the promptest and most unhesitat- 
 ing revelation of the truth. 
 
 " Trust me, my dear child," she continued, "you do 
 not appreciate duly the results of such a discovery ! 
 Wliat possibilities may lie in the futm-e for bring-
 
 28 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 ing to pass an union between you and my unfor- 
 tunate son, I cannot say ! But this I am sure of, 
 that the difficulties you have to contend with would 
 be increased by the secret we have discovered 
 being prematurely divulged." 
 
 " Why unfortunate ? " cried Stella, who had 
 raised her head wdth a sharp, defiant sort of move- 
 ment at the word. 
 
 " Why unfortunate, dearest ? Can you ask ? 
 Why is 7111/ son unfortunate ? Is it no misfortune 
 to have 7ne for a mother ? " 
 
 " I would rather say, my mother, that you are 
 fortunate in having him for a son ! " 
 
 " May you never, never know, my daughter, 
 what it is to feel that you have injured the being 
 you best love by the mere fact of ha^dng brought 
 him into the world ! " 
 
 " Mother," said Stella, after a pause, " to my 
 thinking you are led by the sufferings you have 
 endured to exaggerate the evil you deplore. Where 
 there has been no sin — pardon my great presump- 
 tion in speaking to you so — it seems to me as if 
 there cannot be any such insuperable cause for 
 regret. Think, only think ! " she added, with a 
 Qia'ive intensity of earnestness which would have 
 been amusing to any thu'd party who could have 
 overheard her, " of the loss, if he had never been 
 born at all ! Think of the loss to his country — to
 
 THE ABBESS AND HEE PUPIL. 29 
 
 Italy, my mother ! " — " to me specially," she woiild 
 have said, " and to all the hmnan race in the second 
 place," if she had spoken her enth-e thought. 
 
 Little attuned as was the mind of the Abbess to 
 any pleasant thought, she could not help smiling, 
 \\^th a feeling of pleasm'e, at Stella's innocent en- 
 thusiasm. He had had the fortune, at all events, 
 then, of making liis own the priceless love of one 
 tnie and exceechngly lovely and lo^dng heart — this 
 unfortmiate son of hers I If only he was better 
 worthy of it than his father ! 
 
 " Tell me, then, my Stella," said the Abbess, 
 looking at her fondly — " tell me something about 
 this paladin, whose non-existence would have been 
 such a loss to his countiy — and perhaps to some 
 inch^ddual citizen — or citizen^ss besides ? " 
 
 " How can I describe him to you, my mother," 
 replied Stella, ch'opping the silken lashes over her 
 eyes, and with an indescribable manifestation of 
 pleasm-e in the task assigned her, which might be 
 likened to the puiTing of a happy kitten. " It is 
 not only what he has done — though it is well 
 known that the important success at Cmi:atone 
 was mainly due to him — and I could tell you many 
 another deed of his besides — and some day I must 
 tell you, for he never will ! — and it is not that he 
 is handsome — though I confess I never saw any 
 other nearly so beautiful I — it is — I think it is — a
 
 30 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 sort of noble gentleness tliat is in his heart, and 
 shines out of his eyes ! I think it is mainly that, 
 which goes straight to one's heart ! And I will 
 tell you an observation that I have made," she 
 continued, with an obviously ingenuous pouring out 
 of the most secret meditations of her little heart ; 
 " we are taught, you know, my mother, that to love 
 God purifies and elevates the heart and soul. And 
 I have observed that my love for Giulio has pro- 
 duced similar effects on my character. I am better 
 — ^better in heart and in mind since I have loved 
 him ! It has given me higher and nobler thoughts 
 and feelings, and larger charity towards all others ! 
 I think even that I am less silly and giddy than I 
 was before ! I think, if one loved a man who was 
 not good, one w^ould become worse than before. I 
 am sm'e that the effect my love for Giulio has had 
 on me must show that he is very God-like ! " 
 
 "Stella!" 
 
 " Of com'se I do not mean like God, my mother ; 
 but that he has qualities of the same kind as those 
 which we attribute to God. Then he is so beloved 
 by all who know him. To hear his fellow-students 
 at the University speak of him ! He saved the 
 lives of more than one of them at the risk of his 
 own ! And if others had not told me of the facts, 
 I should never have kno^\^i them ! Oh ! my 
 mother ; believe me, let what may have been the
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 31 
 
 past, a motlier who has come to the discovery that 
 she possesses such a son, should not thmk herself 
 unfortunate ! " 
 
 " You are an eloquent eulogist, my Stella," 
 said the Abbess, with a sad, yet pleased smile ; 
 " now tell me, if you have condescended to re- 
 member any such unimportant details, something 
 of the appearance of this handsomest man you ever 
 saw." 
 
 " If I remember ! Oh, madre mia, if I were a 
 painter, I could paint his portrait here just as well 
 as if he were sitting to me for it ! " answered 
 Stella, closing her eyes, and revelling in the mental 
 image she had summoned from that storehouse of 
 the imagination, where it dwelt continually within 
 call at the shortest notice. " I am afraid you aaiII 
 think that I want to flatter you, my mother," she 
 said, with a smiling glance at the face of the 
 Abbess, " if, after all I have said, I tell you that he 
 is like you. But he is so — to a certain degi'ee. 
 He has the same regular oval face, and the same 
 nose. The mouth, too, is like ; but the chin is dif- 
 ferent, larger and more square. His hair is cer- 
 tainly the most beautiful that ever was seen ! 
 Dark, dark bro^\^i ; nearly, but not quite, black ; 
 and lying on his head in great thick glossy cm-Is ! — 
 oh ! such beautiful hau\ The forehead, again, is 
 like yom-s, my mother ! high and large, and very
 
 32 ' GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 white. But the most beautiful, the most wonderful 
 of all, are the eyes ! They are eyes that nature 
 must have intended for somebody that was to be 
 born dumb ! For they seem to be able to supply 
 the place of speaking. They are sometimes very 
 pensive, thoughtful eyes, and sometimes quick and 
 flashing as the lightning! They are very fierce 
 eyes ! and they are such tender eyes — oh ! so 
 tender ! They can be stern and commanding eyes ; 
 but I have seen them so beseeching — so beseeching, 
 that no human being could say. No, to them. And 
 I can tell you, madre mia^ that they are eyes that 
 cannot help telling all his secrets I Such tell-tale 
 eyes ! They told me that he loved me long before 
 his tongue did ! But that is a secret between om- 
 selves, madre mia I I never told him that his eyes 
 had turned traitors and blabbed, what he never 
 ordered them to tell ! And I know for certain, 
 that what these eyes tell, is the truth ; they cannot 
 tell lies," added Stella, sententiously. 
 
 " There have been beautiful eyes, which could 
 speak eloquently, and which could tell lies ! " said 
 the Abbess, with a sigh. 
 
 " But they must have been different ! " said 
 Stella, with prompt decision ; " I, too, have seen 
 beautiful eyes, which I woidd not trust ; but his 
 are different ; — oh ! so different ! I am sm'e that 
 nobody could disbelieve them."
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 33 
 
 " In short, Stella ! you love liim ! And I feel 
 that that is a strong e^'idence in his favour; 
 for I do not think that you would love un- 
 worthily ! " 
 
 " And is it not then an evidence in my favour 
 that he loves me ? " rejomed Stella, with illogical 
 naivett. 
 
 " That I may possibly be able to answer, my 
 Stella, at some future time," replied the Abbess, 
 shaking her head. 
 
 " Some future time, vt).j mother ! " re-echoed 
 Stella ; — " a time very near at hand, I trust ! " 
 
 " I know not, my child ! It needs much thought. 
 I do not see my way, Stella ! I tremble at the 
 thought of taking a step of which I cannot foresee 
 the consequences. If I were to injure Giulio's 
 prospects by the discovery! If he were to feel 
 that his mother had been a second time fatal to 
 him!" 
 
 " Trust me, my mother, trust me, who know 
 him, that to throw himself into your anns will be 
 the greatest joy that Giulio could ask from fate ! 
 To discover his long lost mother is the great object 
 and enterprise of his life." 
 
 " I doubt it not, my child ! But that is no 
 guarantee for his contentment when he should dis- 
 cover the mother he has so long sought in a clois- 
 
 VOL. III. D
 
 34 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 tered nun ! Still less is it any security against the 
 mischief that such a discovery AA'ould cause him in 
 the minds of others !" 
 
 It was in vain that Stella strove to combat the 
 fears and misgivings of the Abbess, and inspire 
 her mth corn-age to make herself kno^Mi at once 
 to her son. 
 
 " Give me time, my child ! It is a gTeat, a 
 fearful step ! Give me time to think ! Perhaps 
 you are right, my Stella ; but I must have time to 
 think of it matm'ely." •' 
 
 And this was all that Stella was able to obtain 
 from the shrinking timidity and weakness of the 
 Abbess. The question was debated between them 
 at several subsequent inter^aews ; and it Avould 
 have been cm-ious to mark how, despite the circum- 
 stances of the social relation in which the two 
 women stood towards each other, the stronger, 
 fresher, and bolder mind of the yomig boarder 
 gradually, and without any pm'pose on the part of 
 either of them, assumed the position and the task 
 of strengthening, encouraging, and supporting the 
 depressed and unnerved energies of her Superior ; 
 — a curious, but not an unpleasing study ! For so 
 true and warm an affection grew up between them, 
 and the eagerness of the young and mibroken heart 
 was bent with so transparent a pm'ity of unselfish-
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 35 
 
 ness on bnnging about that which she was con- 
 vinced would restore a large portion of happiness 
 to the poor crushed coward heart beside her, that 
 the relationship of the two minds resembled that 
 between a child and the aged blind whose steps it 
 tenderly guides. 
 
 But Stella's utmost efforts failed to stimulate the 
 Abbess so far as to obtain her consent to the step 
 she was urging on her. Fear had too entirely and 
 permanently ousted hope from any place in that 
 bruised and long lethargic heart. And the utmost 
 that Stella could at length obtain from her was 
 pennission to vrnte a letter, which, in ver}^ cautious 
 and guarded terms, should in some degree prepare 
 Giuho for the possibility of a discovery. Again 
 and aorain she ^^Tote, modifyino; her letter in com- 
 pliance ^yiih the exigencies of the Abbess's fears. 
 At length she induced her half-reluctantly to per- 
 mit the folloAATiig letter to be sent : 
 
 " At last, at last, my own beloved, there vnll 
 come up to you from the silence of the cloister a 
 voice from your poor buried Stella ; — a voice bid- 
 ding you to be of good heart and cheer, my Giulio ! 
 — a voice telling you that she is still alive, — I do 
 not mean her body only (for that is not what they 
 try to kill in convents ; and in truth I have had 
 d2
 
 36 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 nothing to suffer on that score), but her heart, and 
 mind, and soul. These are what they tiy to kill 
 and bury in these tombs ; but have no fear for me, 
 my own ! My heart, and mind, and soul are living 
 still. Is it necessary to add that they are all still 
 your own ? 
 
 " Yet it must be admitted, my Giulio, that these 
 convents are homble places ! The utter isolation 
 is perhaps the most dreadful thing about them. 
 There is absolutely no means of communicating 
 with the outer Avorld. The watchfulness and the 
 precautions taken are such as to render it impos- 
 sible. I am quite sm'e that you have been making 
 attempts, my poor Giulio, to communicate ^^^th 
 yom- little bm'ied Stella ; but it has caused me no 
 surprise that no word has reached me. I know too 
 well the impossibility of it. 
 
 " How then, you A\dll say, can I hope to find the 
 means of making this letter reach you '? And that 
 question brings me to the mention of a gi'eat event 
 that has happened in this still and monotonous con- 
 vent existence. Last January old Madre Veronica, 
 the Supenor to whose care and guidance I was 
 specially consigned, died. And we have a new 
 Mother Superior ! The gi'eatest of all possible 
 events in a convent. I will not now speak to you 
 at length about the new Abbess. She is a very
 
 THE ABBESS AND HER PUPIL. 37 
 
 different sort of person in every respect from the 
 Mother Veronica ; and her kindness has been an 
 infinite comfort to me. It will tell you all, in one 
 word, that it is needful for me to ^vrite about her, 
 when I say that I have found in her a kind and 
 loving friend. It may seem surprising, perhaps, to 
 your mundane ideas of a convent life, my Giulio, 
 to be told, that it is by no means a matter of course 
 that even the Superior herself should be able to 
 correspond freely \A\h the outside world. Her 
 every act is spied out and commented on ; she can 
 do nothing secretly ; and if there exist in the com- 
 munity any feeling of ill will towards her, it might 
 be almost as imprudent for her as for any other of 
 the sisterhood to send any miavowable letter out of 
 the convent. From all this you -w-ill understand, 
 that even under the present changed circumstances 
 of the convent, it is by no means an easy matter 
 for me to Avrite to you. But an attempt mil be 
 made to cause these lines to reach you, because I 
 have something more important to tell you than 
 merely that I love you as dearly as ever ; — no, that 
 is a mistake ; nothing can be more important than 
 that ; — but something which at least will be newer 
 and less well known to you. [The new Superior 
 will lend her aid to the sending of this letter, partly 
 because she herself is in some degree interested in
 
 38 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 the contents of it.]" (Stella liad ^vi'itten this ; but 
 the Abbess had insisted on suppressing the passage 
 included between brackets.) 
 
 " It will seem strange to you, after all that I have 
 said about the utter isolation of oui' convent life ; 
 but the fact is that, if I am not mistaken, I have 
 come upon a clue which may lead you to the dis- 
 covery of the mother whose loss you have so long 
 deplored. ^Vliat if it should tmii out that she has 
 lain hid all this time in one of the houses of this 
 order ! [Should my suspicion prove to \mye any 
 foundation of probability — it would be necessary 
 to proceed with caution and discretion.] " (This 
 passage was added. at the instance of the Abbess.) 
 " All is very uncertain as yet ; and that is why I 
 am compelled, to my gTeat annoyance, to write in 
 such mysterious and unsatisfactory terms. The best 
 mode of proceeding w^ould be for you to come, if 
 possible, hither, and seek an interview with the 
 Abbess ; assigning any motive that you may think 
 best. It is not probable that I should be able to 
 see you ; — at all events, not otherwise than in tlie 
 jMvlatoiioy under the watchful eyes — and ears — of 
 one of the old nuns. Even that would he veiy 
 much better than nothing ! But even that would 
 be doubtful. The Abbess, however, would see you ; 
 and I think that that would be the best method of 
 prosecuting your search for yom' poor mother. The
 
 THE ABBESS AXD HER PUPIL. 39 
 
 Abbess would be prepared to receive you, and to 
 speak on the subject in question. 
 
 " Forgive me, my own Giulio, for "v^Titing in 
 this mysterious strain ! It is not my fault ! I am 
 not permitted to do othen\ase ! 
 
 " At all events, the chance is worth some- 
 thing Avhich gives me an opportunity of telling 
 you that I am just as much your oami, just as 
 much determined never to give heart or hand to 
 any other, as the first day I came here. They 
 have made no step, my Giulio, towards conquer- 
 ing your little Stella, — not one! I often say 
 myself, this is my Cm-tatone ! And be very sure 
 that I, too, shall be victorious. They won't make 
 me a Captain of Lancers, I am afraid! But I 
 shall fight my battle, and win it, as well as other 
 folks ! ^ 
 
 " I saw one of the old charts of the convent the 
 other day ; in a printed volume ; and at the bottom 
 of it there was a circle, with the words ^ locus 
 sigillV — the place of the seal, they told me. — Thus 
 — ' locus O sigilli.' That is the place, sir; just 
 where I have made the circle. 
 
 '' Adieu my own, own dearest ! 
 
 " Your bmied but still living 
 
 " Stella." 
 
 This letter the Abbess promised to have conveyed
 
 40 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 under cover to Francesca Palmiera, near the Porta 
 Eomana, Florence. 
 
 But it was some time before she succeeded in 
 finding the means of doing so; and though the 
 letter did eventually reach the hands for which it 
 was intended, a fmi:her delay occurred before it 
 arrived at its destination. 
 
 END OF BOOK lY.
 
 BOOK Y. 
 
 SANTA CEOCE
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CAPTAIN IHALATESTA'S LETTERS. 
 
 GiULio ^Lllatesta received his promotion at 
 the time it had been promised to him. But he was 
 disappointed in his expectation of bemg able to 
 obtain leave of absence in the course of that year. 
 From month to month the pressing exigencies of 
 the sen-ice, which allowed but little relaxation in 
 any kind to the scanty troops of the little Piedmon- 
 tese army during those disastrous years, made his 
 absence from his regiment impossible. And it 
 was not till the early spring of 1851 that he 
 was at length able to put into execution his long- 
 cherished plan of visiting Bologna, in the hope 
 of finding there some clue to the discovery of his 
 mother. 
 
 He had corresponded all this time, more or less
 
 44 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 regularly, with Professor Yarani, and with Rinaldo 
 Palmieri. 
 
 The Professor had promised him that he would 
 make inquiries, with a view to preparing the 
 ground for his proposed investigations. But he 
 had been able to do veiy little in this way. He 
 gave him carefully, in \\Titing, a detailed statement 
 of the facts respecting the marriage of his mother, 
 ■which he had already communicated to him by 
 word of mouth at Pisa ; and he promised him a 
 letter of introduction to his own mother, Signora 
 Varani, who was still living, now a very old woman, 
 at Bologna. But this was about the extent of 
 what the Professor had been able to contribute to 
 the object in view. The letters which passed 
 between him and Giulio were for the most part 
 filled with political discussions, the general tendency 
 of which was to operate and record the progress of 
 Giulio's conversion from those Giobertinian dreams 
 of a reforaied and glorified Papacy, which was to 
 be the leading star of Italy's futm-e progi'ess — 
 dreams which the conduct of the reforming Pope 
 during these years so effectually discredited, that 
 nearly all that younger generation, which had been 
 attracted by the splendom' of the Giobertinian 
 Utopia, were couA^inced of the baseless nature of 
 their vision, save such as at the bottom of their 
 hearts preferred the Papacy to Italy.
 
 CAPTAIN MALATESTA's LETTERS. 45 
 
 The coiTespondence between Giulio and Rinaklo 
 turned dui'ing the earlier portion of it mainly on 
 Rinaldo's love-matters, and his approaching mar- 
 riage; and during that part of it which was sub- 
 sequent to that event, had reference to the result 
 of Rinaldo's journey to Montepulciano, and to 
 various schemes for introducino; letters into the 
 convent, all of which proved abortive on chs- 
 cussion. 
 
 Several letters also had passed between Giidio 
 and his friend Carlo Brancacci. And a few 
 extracts from some of these ^rill suffice as indica- 
 tions of the state of thino;s in the Palazzo Altamari 
 during Stella's banishment at Montepulciano. 
 
 In a letter ^mtten towards the end of September, 
 1849, after speakmg of the recent retm-n to Flo- 
 rence of his micle and the Contessa Zenobia, from 
 spending a couple of months at Leghorn, Carlo 
 continued : 
 
 " As for myself, I am too thorough a Florentine 
 to find an}i:hing very delightful in these migrations 
 to the sea-side, which modern fashion makes so 
 imperative. I am never so contented out of sight 
 of Giotto's tower, as beneath the shadow of it. 
 And I suspect that my uncle is veiy much of the 
 same way of thinking. But needs must, when 
 the Contessa Zenobia drives ! Her ladyship, of
 
 40 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 course, was in liigli feather tliere, on the Passeqgiata 
 deW Ardenza,^ and clown on the Pancaldi baths.f 
 But there is no need of describing to you herself 
 or her ways. And I am sure you have already 
 pictured to yourself that f any-like form on the 
 extremity of the pier, in yery high spirits and yery 
 high-heeled boots, and a very liigh liheccio % blow- 
 inc^ in from the south-west ! I assm'e you it was a 
 sight to be seen ; and you would have laughed, as 
 I have every time I have remembered it, if you 
 had seen my excellent uncle's distress, of body and 
 mind, partly at the inconvenance of her ladyship's 
 appearance, partly at the danger of losing his o"\m 
 hat and ^^'ig, and partly at his difficulty of main- 
 taining his footing. That animal, the T^Iarchese 
 Alfonso, gave us his company do^^ni there part of 
 the time. There is no telling you what a creature 
 it is ! I think he is rather frightened — perhaps 
 his proA^ncial propriety is a little scandalised — at 
 La Zenobia. And if it were not for his reverence 
 the Canonico Adalberto, I should not despair of 
 the possibility of making such a breach between 
 
 * The Marine Parade of Leghorn. 
 
 t The bathing is done at Leghorn in a number of canvas huts, 
 erected on a miniature archipelago of rocks a few yards from the 
 shore. The passages, bridges, and spaces between these, are paved 
 and covered with awnings, and form the resort of the gaver portion 
 of the fashionable Leghorn world. 
 
 X The -wind most prevalent at Leghorn is called the Libeccio.
 
 CAPTAIN MALATESTA's LETTERS. 47 
 
 the little man and the Contessa, as might effectually 
 get rid of him. It is veiy easy to see that she has 
 the utmost contempt for him. But it is of no use 
 speculating on any such possibilities, worse luck! 
 For the Canonico is not an adversary against whom 
 it is easy to A\^n a game of any description. He is 
 (me of those men who wills what he A^ills in earnest. 
 He is as quiet and gentle in manner as a lamb ; 
 and you would think it the easiest thing in the 
 world to tmni him round your finger, and bring 
 him to consent to an^lhing. And so it is, as long 
 as the matter in question is nothing that he very 
 particularly cares about. But he means to join 
 the Malatesta to the Altamari property. And it 
 no more matters to him what the human tools are 
 that he has to use in doing the job, so that they are 
 obedient to his hand, than does the colour of the 
 parchment the title-deeds are ^\Titten on. By-the- 
 by, I am not sm'e whether I ever told you that no 
 word has been said to the Marchese Alfonso of his 
 having a rival in his pretensions to the hand of the 
 Contessina. I might easily do this ; but I have 
 thought, on the whole, that it was best not to say it. 
 It would probably be very easy to frighten the 
 Sicrnor ^larchese into abandonino; all thouo-hts of 
 an Altamari marriage— if , again, it were not for the 
 Canonico. But the ^^Tetched little man fears him, 
 and not without reason, more than anything: else ;
 
 4:8 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 and there cannot be the least doubt, that his reve- 
 rence would find the means of keeping him up to 
 his word." 
 
 It another letter, of about a week later date, 
 Carlo yvYote : 
 
 " Of coui'se, one of my first ^^sits on retiu-ning 
 to Florence, was to our friend Rinaldo Palmieri. 
 You know all the story of his tracking the Con- 
 tessina and her uncle to Montepulciano. And in 
 truth, it is a great comfort to know where she is ! 
 But beyond that we have been able to accomplish 
 nothing. La Signora Francesca, perhaps, might 
 have been permitted to speak Av^ith the prisoner in 
 the parlaiorio of the convent. But she could not 
 have approached within fom' or five yards of her, 
 and the inter\^ew must have taken place under the 
 supervision of one of the nuns. Under these cir- 
 cumstances, we all thought it best not to allow La 
 Signora Francesca to become personally known to 
 the convent authorities. For it mio;ht come to 
 pass, that it would be desirable that she should 
 not be recognised as an acquaintance of the Con- 
 tessina." 
 
 In another letter, written about a month later, 
 the following passage occurs : 
 
 " If it were not for that terrible Canonico,
 
 CAPTAIN MALATESTA's LETTERS. 49 
 
 we should have an easy game before us. For 
 nothincr could be easier than to make an ii-re- 
 parable breach between the Marchese Alfonso and 
 the Contessa. It is evident that she has taken 
 a regular aversion to the poor little creature. 
 They are both equally and inimitably absurd, each 
 in their own way ; and the scenes that take place 
 between them would make the fortune of a dozen 
 farces. He is made up of the very quintessence 
 of priggism and insignificance. He is full of a 
 thoroughly provincial notion of his own greatness, 
 genealogical and other, and is utterly astonished 
 and scandalised at our easy-going democratical 
 Florentine indifference to such matters. Then, his 
 old-world provincial dandyism is the most ludicrous 
 thincT in the world, and makes him the lauo-hino;- 
 stock of all Florence. He is extremely devout, 
 too, you must know, and is much given to make 
 his little church matters and observances the topic 
 of drawing-room conversation, to the infinite dis- 
 gust of La Zenobia, which she manifests in a way 
 that it is the fmi of the world to see ! She dares 
 not tell him, what I firmly beheve is her own 
 intimate con\-iction, that a young man has no 
 business ^vith such things, and that she should 
 Hke him a deal better if he swore Hke a trooper, 
 and kissed all the girls in the house. But she 
 flounces, and tosses, and kicks, and makes gi'i- 
 VOL. III. E
 
 50 CxIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 maces, in a manner that sometimes tries the nerves 
 of my ' j)overo zio^ * terribly. One day, when the 
 little Marchesino had been giving us a long ac- 
 count of some anniversary service fomided and 
 kept up by some of his family at Femio, detailing 
 the particulars of the vestments of the priests, and 
 the numbers of the candles, and I know not Avhat, 
 she burst out with, ^ For my part, mon clier, I 
 should say, with the divine Voltaire, La messe ne 
 vaut pas la cliandelle ! ^ You know her way of 
 patchworking her scraps of French. The little 
 man looked thunderstruck, as well he might. But, 
 talking of that, she equally astonished a much 
 bigger man, a certain herculean Austrian captain 
 in garrison here, one Von Stoggendorf, a great 
 favom'ite of hers, by assuring him that he was 
 ^ Le caiLcliemar des dames I ' But I doubt whether 
 he w^ould have understood her much better if she 
 had said ' La coqueluclie^ which, I suppose, was 
 what she meant. 
 
 " Adieu, old fellow ! Keep up your spirits. 
 We'll floor the Marchese yet, somehow ; and you 
 shall win the day in the long run ! Perhaps it 
 may be in the design of Pro^ddence that the II- 
 lustrissimo Signor Canonico Adalberto Altamari 
 may get a touch of gout in the stomach I Who 
 knows ! " Yom's always, 
 
 " Carlo." 
 
 * "Poor uncle."
 
 CAPTAIN MALATESTA's LETTERS. 51 
 
 A passage from another letter, without date, 
 but evidently ^^Titten some time in the spring of 
 1850, shows that Giulio did not get his first inti- 
 mation of the change of Superior at Montepulciano 
 from Stella's letter to him : 
 
 " Jit last, my dear Giulio," Carlo writes, " I 
 have some news to give you from Montepulciano — 
 not, I hasten to say, from the Contessina Stella 
 herself — but still news that may be important, and 
 that can hardly turn out to be otherwise than 
 favourable. The Superior of the convent of 
 Ursulines, one Mother Veronica, to whose charge 
 the Contessina was specially consigned by her pre- 
 cious uncle, died, it seems, very suddenly, last 
 January, and a new Superior has been appointed 
 in her place. Of course we — that is to say, 
 Palmieri and his Avife and I — did om' best to 
 find out something about the new Abbess. She 
 was brought to Montepulciano, it seems, from 
 some other distant convent of the order. It is 
 said that she is a woman of very different stamp 
 from her predecessor — a person of cultm^e, and, as 
 far as an Abbess can be, of liberal views and ten- 
 dencies. It is very possible that such a person 
 may refuse to be any party to a scheme for 
 coercing a girl to a hateful mamage by threaten- 
 ing the veil as an alternative. It may be, even, 
 e2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 ..^•.wrociTV HP liltNOlS
 
 52 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 that something better may be hoped from her 
 indulgence and pity. We shall see ! The Palmieri 
 are on the look-out, and you may depend on it that 
 no shadow of a chance of communicating with the 
 prisoner shall be suffered to escape. Meantime, it 
 can hardly be doubted that the Contessina's lot 
 must be ameliorated under the rule of such a 
 Superior. 
 
 " Our Carnival here has been a very dull one — 
 very different, indeed, from those happy days Avhich 
 we enjoyed together in 1848." 
 
 One more extract from a letter, ^^Titten towards 
 the end of the year, will sen'e to show the result of 
 those further inquiries which Carlo had, in his 
 fonner letter, promised his fnend should not be 
 neglected : 
 
 " Palmieri has picked up some rather strange 
 rumom's from Montepulciano, which seem to show 
 that it is probable that the change of Superior, of 
 which I ^yYote to you in the spring, may affect the 
 Contessina Stella in a manner different from any- 
 thing I then anticipated. I told you that the new- 
 Abbess had the character of being a person of — for 
 an Abbess — liberal tendencies. I suppose that the 
 placing her there was a move made by the in- 
 fluence of those who, just about that time, had
 
 CAPTAIX MALATESTA's LETTERS. 53 
 
 tlieii' heads full of the notion that the old Lady on 
 the Seven Hills was going to be regenerated, and 
 turn over a new leaf. You remember how often 
 we have talked over that matter in old times in 
 Pisa? I take it you, like the rest of the world, 
 have by this time lost all faith in any such expec- 
 tation. You know I always thought that any 
 notion of washing the Scarlet Dame white, or 
 even rose-colour, was about as hopeful a specu- 
 lation as washing a blackamoor white. We all see 
 what the plan has come to in high places ; and it 
 would seem that this particular little attempt at 
 ^lontepulciano has come to giief in a similar way. 
 Tnist me, that any attempt to reform the Clnu'ch 
 is like giving stimulants to a man far gone in a 
 consumption. The patient veiy soon finds that the 
 remedy is killing him outright. And this has 
 been the case in a small way with the tonic which 
 the ^\'iseacres thought to administer to the convent 
 of the Ursulines. I hear that the sisterhood are 
 in a state of open rebellion ; — that they are sup- 
 ported by some of the influential clerg^^ of the 
 diocese ; — that there is likely to be such a row and 
 a scandal as might even cause the existence of 
 Montepulciano to be heard of in these latitudes. 
 All which would be about as interesting to us as 
 hearing that the Emperor of China had a cold in 
 his head, were it not that it seems, from all I can
 
 54 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 hear, likely to lead to the new Abbess being sum- 
 moned to Florence, and, as a consequence, to the 
 recal of the Contessina Stella. You know my 
 dear Uncle Florimond's diplomatic profunchty and 
 caution. Still, he is open to a certain amount of 
 pumping, if the handle of the machine be not plied 
 too roughly. And my impression is that he knows 
 that it has been decided to brins: the Contessina 
 home. You must not suppose, however, that any 
 such move is worth more than it really is. I have 
 not the slightest hope that such a step would indi- 
 cate any change in that terrible Canonico Adal- 
 berto's plans and pm^poses. There are plenty of 
 other convents. But, at all events, it will give us 
 an opportunity of communicating ^^dth the poor 
 dear little exile ; and that is worth something. 
 Meanwhile, depend on me and the Palmieri to 
 keej) a sharp look out, to take adA'antage of any 
 chance that may tmni up, and to write directly if 
 there is anything worth telling. 
 
 " So you have got yoru' leave of absence at last. 
 I congi'atulate you, and earnestly hope that yom' 
 projected trip to Bologna may not turn out alto- 
 gether fruitless for the object you have in view. I 
 addi'ess this letter as usual, but suppose that it 
 will, probably, have to follow you to Bologna. 
 
 " Yours always, 
 
 '' Caklo."
 
 CAPTAIN MALATESTA's LETTERS. 55 
 
 To tlie above extracts from the letters of Carlo 
 Brancacci it may be useful to add tlie following 
 from Professor Pietro Yarani to Giulio Malatesta, 
 written just before the latter started on his long- 
 deferred journey to Bologna, as it A^^ill serve to ex- 
 plain the objects and the prospects before Giulio Tvith 
 respect to the investigation he was bent on making : 
 
 " Most esteemed Sigxor Capitaxo, — 
 " I am much pleased to hear that you are at last 
 able to accompHsh your pm*pose of going to Bo- 
 logna. You know, alas ! too well, how much 
 reason I have for feeling that the inquiries you 
 intend making are — I will not say as deeply, for 
 that would A^Tong the ardour of yom- filial feel- 
 ings — but more painfully interesting to me than 
 even to yourself. I dare not say to you or to 
 myself that I have much hope. It is now nearly 
 twenty-three years from the day, never to be 
 forgotten by me, when my fatal ignorance and 
 undue trustfulness in a scoundrel led to so much 
 misery! — nearly twenty-three years I — a fatally 
 sufficient time for effacing obhvion to do its work ! 
 To me eveiy incident, every look of each of the 
 actors in that sad scene, are as \TOdly present 
 as they were while they Avere actually passing. 
 But we cannot expect that such should be the case 
 with others.
 
 56 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 "I have called the -worthless man who broke 
 your dear mother's heart a scoundrel, and his sub- 
 sequent conduct stamps him such ; for it was in 
 his power to make all right when it was discovered 
 that the clandestine marriage was void, and he 
 would not do so. But I have never supposed that 
 he could have known the fatal flaw arising from 
 my being under legal age before the marriage was 
 made. I have told you this when we- have talked 
 the matter over together ; and I have always come 
 to the same conclusion in my many, many medita- 
 tions on the subject. 
 
 " It would probably not be diflicult to discover 
 the house at which your mother resided at Belfiore, 
 and perhaps the owners of it and others, who were 
 about her at the time of her leaving it, might still 
 be found. But I have little, or rather, I confess, 
 no hope, that they will be able to throw any light 
 on her destination, beyond its being Kome. 
 
 " I enclose you a letter to my mother, not so 
 much from any hope that she can be of service to 
 you by any recollection of her o^^Tl — for she can 
 scarcely know any of the facts, save such as were 
 known to me — but simply because from her many 
 years' residence in Bologna, and her long, close, 
 and widely-extended connexion Avith the liberal 
 party throughout Romagna, she may be able, per- 
 haps, to be of use in making you acquainted with
 
 CAPTAIN MALATESTA's LETTERS. 57 
 
 persons who may possibly be helpful to you. More 
 especially, as at the present time it would scarcely 
 be prudent for an officer in yom* service to be 
 kno-y^Ti as such in the Papal territory, she may be 
 of use to you ; for you may implicitly trust in that 
 point of view any person with whom she may put 
 you in relation. 
 
 " My mother is now a very old woman, and 
 though when I last heard of her she was in some- 
 what failing health, is still in the full possession of 
 all her faculties. You must not suffer yourself to 
 be repulsed by any want of graciousness you may 
 find in her manner of receiving you. She is an 
 upright woman and means well, and A\ill, I am 
 sru'e, be willing to serve you in any way she can. 
 But she is harsh and austere in manner. She has 
 seen much of the ^^Tong, the tyranny, and the 
 abuses which, dming the whole of a long life, have 
 made her country one of the most wretched on the 
 face of the earth. Her whole life has been spent 
 in fighting against the laws and the makers of 
 them, by force or by fraud, or by any available 
 means. And she is, in consequence, a soured and 
 embittered woman; and her tongue is apt to be 
 sarcastic and mordant. NeA^ertheless, when she 
 knows who and wdiat you are, I am sm'e that she 
 wiW wish to lend you a helping hand if she can ; 
 and, at all events, you may perfectly trust her.
 
 58 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " And SO, my most valued friend, with heartfelt 
 wishes for a successful result to yom' pilgi'image, 
 I remain, 
 
 " Yom* devoted sen^ant and sincere well-wisher, 
 " PiETRO Varani, Prof essore." 
 
 The above letters all reached Captain Malatesta 
 at Alessandria, where his regiment was quartered ; 
 for, owing to new and unexpected delays, he was 
 not able to get away from his military duties till 
 the first days of 1851. 
 
 It was on the 6th of January that he reached 
 Bologna.
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 MARTA VARANI. 
 
 The years which bring a young man from nme- 
 teen to twenty-two or so, and which were near 
 about those that had passed oyer Giulio Malatesta 
 since we parted from him on the field of Cmi:a- 
 tone, produce for the most part a greater change in 
 a young man on the southern side of the Alps than 
 in our less forcing chmate. The ripening process 
 goes on more rapidly as regards manhood, as well 
 as other growths, under an Italian sim. But the 
 change which any friend who had not seen him 
 during the inten'al would have remarked in Giulio, 
 was attributable only in part to the mere lapse 
 of time. It was a change undoubtedly for the 
 better; and it may be assumed as certam that 
 Stella, beinor thoroughly in loye with him, would
 
 60 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 have at once felt and declared as much. But it is, 
 perhaps, not quite equally certain that, had she not 
 been already in love "N^'ith him, she would have been 
 as powerfully attracted by his present appearance 
 as she had been by that which she had so enthu- 
 siastically described to the Abbess at Montepul- 
 ciano. That " most beautiful hair in the world," 
 instead of floating in long curly locks from his 
 temples, was cropped short. The pale and almost 
 sallow cheek had become somewhat bronzed, and 
 perhaps a little filled out. Those eyes, the versa- 
 tility of whose expression Stella had so lo^-ingly 
 celebrated, had far less of dreamy reverie in them 
 than of yore, and seemed to have altogether for- 
 gotten the ". beseeching" mood, which had spoken 
 so powerfully to her heart, in favom' of the stern 
 and commanding expression, which she had some- 
 times seen in them. But then, the versatile eyes 
 might probably change their mood again, if they 
 got a chance of again communing ^\'ith those which 
 had marked them in their " beseeching" aspect. 
 
 The entire man, however, could never again 
 reassume the expression of three years ago. For 
 the change which had taken place in him was 
 mainly a moral change. It was not only that the 
 dreamy student had become a captain of Lancers 
 — though that metamoi-phosis involved a very con- 
 siderable change in the inner as well as in the
 
 MARTA VARANI. 61 
 
 outer man — but that the social waif aimlessly float- 
 ing down the stream towards an uncertain future, 
 had become a citizen, with his place marked and 
 allowed in the social system, with a career and its 
 hopes, aims, duties, and ambitions open before him. 
 
 The change, as has been said, was altogether a 
 favourable one ; and Stella would have felt it to 
 be so. For though the captain of Lancers cer- 
 tainly looked less poetical than the dreamy, long- 
 haired student, Stella's heau ideal would instantly 
 on seeing him have been changed from the image 
 of a poet meditating the generation of mankind by 
 the instinimentality of a regenerated Church, to 
 that of a general of division successfully labouring 
 to secm'e his countiy's place among the nations. 
 
 For love laughs at consistencies as well as at 
 locksmiths. 
 
 Giulio's first care on arriving in Bolooma was to 
 send a messenger from his inn mth the Professor's 
 letter to his mother, and a request that Signora 
 Varani Avould name an hour when he might call 
 upon her. In fact, he knew no other means of 
 taking the first step in the matter he was engaged 
 in. He had never been in Bologna before, and 
 had not a single acquaintance in the city. He 
 wished to hear from Signora Varani's own mouth 
 her reminiscences of the circumstances attending 
 the clandestine mamage. But the principal ser-
 
 62 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 vice lie expected from her, was an introduction to 
 some person lie could depend on for assistance in 
 certain inquiries he was bent on maldng at Bel- 
 fiore and at Fernio. 
 
 It was nightfall before the messenger retm^ned 
 with a word to say that La Signora Varani would 
 be glad to see the gentleman at ten o'clock the 
 next morning. And at that hour, guided by a 
 bov sent from his inn, Giulio found himself in the 
 quiet little ^jjm^^^a of San Domenico, and at the 
 door of the old house in the corner opposite to the 
 entrance of the clim'ch. 
 
 The lapse of all but a quarter of a century had 
 produced no shadow of change in the sleepy, quiet 
 little piazza, with its tall, deathly dull houses, its 
 picturesque, irregular-shaped chm'ch, its cmious, 
 mediaeval sarcophagus tombs, its grass-gi'own pave- 
 ment, and its one or two silent Domenican monks 
 sauntering about the cloister entrance, or smming 
 themselves under the southern wall of the nave. 
 The grass-blades between the paving-stones and 
 the black and white monks in the sunshine, might 
 have been the self-same grass and men that were 
 idly and uselessly rmming to seed and fachng in 
 the same places a quarter of a century ago. Italy 
 had been played for and lost in the interval, the 
 great political carnival had taken place, and the 
 political masking had begun and ended in the in-
 
 MARTA VARAXI. 63 
 
 terval, national liope had blazed up higli, and had 
 sunk again in dull glowing embers of suppressed 
 fire in the inter^^al ; but the sleepy little pzVif^^ct of 
 San Domenico had never waked up, and was still 
 slumberously basking in its sunshine as it did when 
 Cesare jSIalatesta used to watch for Maddalena 
 Tacca behind the deep shadow of the Foscherari 
 tomb, three-and-twenty years ago. 
 
 Inside the old apartment on one side of the 
 third -floor landing-place there was as little 
 change in all save the inhabitants of it. There 
 the change was considerable. The duties of his 
 career had taken the Professor — the awkward, 
 silent, absent student of a quarter of a centuiy 
 ago — to a distant city ; and when his young sister, 
 who had grown up to be the solitary smibeam that 
 shed any light of gi*ace or gladness on the dull 
 life of that cbeary household, had elected to 
 accompany her brother to his new home, their 
 mother had made no objection, and had not 
 appeared in any way to regret the arrangement. 
 There had never been any great sympathy between 
 the ungainly, ill-favoured, dreamy lad and his still 
 handsome, active, practical, hard-natm'ed mother. 
 But it might have been supposed that it would 
 have cost the mother a pang to part ^^^th tlie child 
 of her age, the one bright thing near or belonging 
 to her. Such did not seem to have been the case.
 
 64 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 however. The stern old woman set her face to 
 walk forwards into the desert of a solitary old age, 
 apparently quite contented to be left to finish her 
 pilgi'image alone. Alone Avith the political friends 
 and the political schemes, that is to say, which had 
 made the business and the interest of her life, and 
 which, indeed, made the little apartment on the 
 third floor scarcely a desirable residence for a 
 young girl just blooming into great beauty. 
 
 For, truth to say, the pursuits of Signora Varani's 
 life, and the position she held among the more 
 advanced (i. e. the more violent and active) section 
 of the liberal party, brought her into contact, and 
 made her obscure little home the house of call for 
 men of very various sorts, and many among them 
 not of the most desirable kind for the intimacy of 
 a young girl. Old Marta Yarani knew all the 
 leading " patriots " of Bologna and Romagna, and 
 among them no small number of men of the loftiest 
 character, the most exalted views, and the highest 
 culture. But when breaking the laws, and con- 
 spiring against the makers and the agents of them, 
 is the business of a lifetime, the habits of such a 
 lifetime, however admirable, however necessary, 
 and however holy the resistance to the tyranny to 
 be overtm'ned may be, is sm'e to bring the habitual 
 rebel and conspirator into relation with many per- 
 sons of whom none of those good things can be
 
 MARTA VARAXI. 65 
 
 said. The result is an evil, which spreads and 
 ramifies itself ^\4dely and profoundly through all 
 the body of the social system, and forais one item 
 to be added to the long bill against a bad govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Old Marta Yarani was herself much changed. 
 It w^as of course that she should be so ; she was 
 now nearly seventy years old. But she was more 
 altered than she might have been. Yet, in some 
 respects, she was the same. The tall, spare, rigid 
 figm*e was as upright as ever; but she steadied 
 her steps with a stout cane, and the hand which 
 gi*asped it trembled a little as it did its office. 
 Tlie great dark eye was as flashing and as bnght 
 as ever, and the heavy bushy brow above it as 
 strongly marked and as menacing as ever, but it 
 was iron-m-ev instead of black ; and the hair, as 
 abundant as ever, lay in considerable disorder as of 
 yore, in large iron-grey instead of raven-black 
 masses on the temples and forehead, square and 
 massive as ever, but yellow now instead of v>^hite, 
 as they still had been twenty years ago. The 
 yellow tint, indeed, of the entire face, and the 
 shrunken appearance of the lower portion of it, 
 which made it seem scarcely half its former size, 
 and gave the great fierce eyes the look of being 
 disproportionately large for the other featm'es, were 
 
 VOL. III. F
 
 Q6 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 the worst of the marks that time had left, for they 
 seemed to indicate ill health as well as old age. 
 
 Despite, however, all such warnings that her 
 course was nearly run, old Marta Yarani was as 
 keenly intent and as busily occupied as ever on the 
 interests and the hopes that had made the business 
 of her life. For a period — just the few years 
 during which the masking of the political Carnival 
 had lasted — the business of conspirmg and rebelling 
 and hatching plots had been slack, and the con- 
 spirators' house of call had been in a great measure 
 deserted. But when the masking was over, and 
 the Pope was himself again, the trade became 
 brisker than ever. Never, indeed, at the worst of 
 times, had the tp'anny and cruelty of the eccle- 
 siastical orovernment been more intolerable than 
 during the years which immediately followed the 
 (Ussipation of the delusion of a liberal Pope and 
 Papacy. The old agents of the priestly despotism, 
 who had been outraged, temfied, and fm'iously 
 enraged by the mock liberalism of the political 
 Carnival-time, which had banished them into holes 
 and corners m eveiy part of the Pontifical territorv^, 
 crawled forth again eager to avenge themselves for 
 their past mortification on the mifortunates who 
 had been deluded by the Papal masking into com- 
 mitting themselves to the liberalising government 
 of the last three years. Never did persecution
 
 MART A VARANI. 67 
 
 rage so fiercely, so relentlessly. Never had the 
 sportsmen of the ecclesiastical government so mag- 
 nificent a battue as when the political covers had 
 been filled by the trick that had thus deluded the 
 unfortunate subjects of Pope-land. 
 
 The natm'al result was, that secret associations, 
 conspii-acies, and plots of all kinds, were once again 
 as rife as ever, and old Marta Yarani was once 
 more in her element; and the dark stairs of the 
 old house in the Piazza di San Domenico were 
 again climbed at all sorts of strange houi's by all 
 sorts of strange visitors. 
 
 Malatesta was admitted by a girl, whom the old 
 woman had found herself compelled by her in- 
 firmities to take as a servant. She had done so 
 very reluctantly, for she wanted no eyes save her 
 OAvn to note the comings and goings in her house. 
 
 " Take a seat. Captain Giulio Malatesta," said 
 the old woman, looking at him keenly from under 
 her hea^y brows, " and excuse me for not rising to 
 receive you. I do not get up when I am once 
 seated so readily as I used to. So ! I see by my 
 son's letter that you were at Curtatone, — on the 
 right side, for a Avonder, considering the name you 
 bear. Italy has little reason, and old Marta Yarani 
 has as little, to love the name of Malatesta." 
 
 "It may be that Italy mil hereafter feel and 
 speak differently of the name, Signora. I know 
 f2
 
 68 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 tliat my name mast be especially distasteful to 
 you." 
 
 " Hmnpli ! I have been told that you did good 
 service at Curtatone, Signor Capitano ; and doubt- 
 less Italy ^^^ll hold it in remembrance — in better 
 remembrance, it is to be hoped, than it ^vill hold 
 certain other deeds that have been connected mth 
 the name." 
 
 "And for yom'self, Signora?" pleaded Giulio, 
 with a deprecatoiy smile. 
 
 " For myself — it is possible that I might do the 
 same — if it mattered to anybody what a poor lonely 
 old woman thought on that or any other subject. 
 Though my recollections of the name are, as you 
 say, not pleasing ones." 
 
 " You allude, Signora, I cannot affect to doubt, 
 to the unhappy circumstances attending the mar- 
 riage of my parents ? " 
 
 " Ay ! Mv son's letter tells me the eri'and you 
 have come hither on. A^Hiat can I do to undo the 
 mischief that he was gaby enough to allow to 
 be ^\Tought ? " 
 
 " Nay, Signora, the mischief that was done that 
 day can never be undone." The old woman shot a 
 sharp glance at him from under her eyebrows as he 
 said the words, and continued to scrutinise his face 
 earnestly as he continued : " I had no thought of 
 midoing it, but simply of endeavouring to discover
 
 MARTA VARANI. 69 
 
 some traces of the unfortunate mother ^yhom I have 
 never known." 
 
 " And my son seems to imagme that I can assist 
 that object. But he never had common sense 
 enough to eat his own soup mthout scalding his 
 mouth ! It was an unhappy business, that mar- 
 riage ! Your unfortunate mother was shamefully, 
 scandalously deceived and betrayed. And my 
 great gaby of a son, of com'se, with the best pos- 
 sible intentions, like all the rest of the fools who 
 make most of the trouble in this world, must needs 
 give his help to the job." 
 
 "It would have been veiy difficult for him, 
 under the cii'cumstances of the case, as I have 
 heard them from him, to refuse to act as a wit- 
 ness." 
 
 " He always said that that vile animal, the Mar- 
 chese Malatesta there at Fermo, had no previous 
 knowledge that Pietro was under age, and that 
 the marriage was, therefore, a nullity. He won't 
 believe that it was intended from the first that 
 the marriage should be void. He thinks, the sim- 
 pleton! that such wickedness is too monstrous to 
 be attributed to any man. As if all the histoiy of 
 om- lives, and all the history of the lives of our 
 forefathers, had any other teaching in them than 
 this — that no imaginable atrocity, cruelty, treacher}', 
 baseness, practised by the pri^dleged classes on the
 
 70 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 slaves who endure their yoke, can be either a 
 matter of surprise to the victims, or a weight on 
 the conscience of then' tyi'ants ! " 
 
 And the okl woman raised aloft the staff in her 
 feeble hand with a gestm-e of impotent indignation 
 as she spoke, and a gleam flashed from her eve 
 which might have fitted her for the representative 
 of a sibyl in the act of inspired denunciation. 
 
 " Is it, then, yom' own persuasion, Signora, that 
 the fact was otherwise than as my friend the Pro- 
 fessor thinks — that the Marchese plotted the false 
 semblance of a mamage, and was aware both of 
 the fact that your son was under age, and of the 
 nullity of the marriage that would follow from 
 it?" asked Giulio, calmly and observantly attentive 
 to gather any facts Avhich might possibly sei'i^e to 
 help him in his quest. 
 
 " Is it my persuasion ? Assm'edly it is I My 
 son's age was a matter of notoriety to all the to^m. 
 All his comrades knew it. It was not as if he had 
 been a student from a distance. We are Bologna 
 people. He had lived here all his Kfe. I firmly 
 believe that it was deliberately planned to pro^dde 
 for the nullity of the marriage." 
 
 " If I could only acquire a conviction that such 
 was the case ! " said Giulio, between his gi'omid 
 teeth. 
 
 " Wliy, what then ? Even if it were not so — if
 
 aiAKTA VARANI. 71 
 
 the man were not guilty in intention before the mar- 
 riage, he was afterwards. Vfhj did he not marry 
 his victim when the nulHty of the mamao-e was 
 discovered ? " 
 
 " The refusal to do so was bad enough," replied 
 GiuKo, frowning heavily; "but not so base be- 
 yond all precedent of baseness, as the preconcerted 
 treacheiy which you attribute to him. Weakness, 
 ci'iminal and contemptible enough if you mil — 
 want of corn-age to resist the threats and importu- 
 nities of his family may — not palliate but — explain 
 the latter conduct. The former would imply an 
 excess of vileness beyond all example, and I con- 
 fess, to my mind, almost beyond credibility." 
 
 " The excess of vileness m an aristocrat which is 
 beyond credibility, occupies a smaller and smaller 
 sj^ace in the imagination as one grows older in this 
 part of the world, Signor Capitano. By the time 
 one has reached seventy, the mind refuses to con- 
 ceive any such idea at all. Remember that the 
 Marchese Cesare Malatesta knew perfectly well 
 that his hand was promised to — a female of his own 
 species. The courage needed to fly in the face 
 of all those long-standing family arrangements, 
 and upset them all by making a marriage mth a 
 nobody, would have been surely as great as any 
 that could have been needed to resist the pressure 
 of his family afterwards ! No ! no ! The vile
 
 72 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 traitor knew what he was about from the bemn- 
 ning ! I have no doubt on the matter ! And my 
 wise and sharp son was clever enough to lend his 
 aid to a scheme which he would freely have sacri- 
 ficed his life to prevent! Ay, that he would, 
 freely. For he was very fond of her w^io became 
 yom- mother." 
 
 " Was it so, really? Poor mother ! And Pietro 
 Varani, let me tell you, Signora, has one of the 
 largest, noblest hearts that ever beat in a man's 
 bosom ! " And Giulio's voice trembled a little mth 
 emotion as he said it. 
 
 " Well, yes ! I suppose he had," said the old 
 woman, coolly; "but then it was shut up out of 
 sight inside him. What one saw outside did not 
 seem so noble. And then poor Pietro was always 
 a fool." 
 
 " He is not a fool I " said Giulio, sternly and 
 almost fiercely. 
 
 " Well, if you are content with his wisdom in 
 the matter, I suppose I may be ! " said old Marta, 
 with an approach to a sneer. 
 
 " With all that he did, and meant to do, I am 
 content. You think he was attached to my mo- 
 ther ? " he added, after a pause. 
 
 " He was ^ attached to her,' as you phrase it. 
 He was so wise as to love her well enough to 
 liave given his life to secure her happiness with.
 
 MARTA VARANI. 73 
 
 another man — the gi'eat, ugly, poor-spirited oaf !|" 
 said his mother, with bitterness, and a strange 
 mixtm-e of feehngs at her heart ; " and she 
 lovely enough to have won the love of the love- 
 liest ! It needed a different sort of creatui'e to 
 snare her heart, I trow ! " 
 
 " You must have been a very beautiful woman 
 in your time, Signora Yarani I " said Giulio, unce- 
 remoniously, looking at the old woman specula- 
 tively, and speaking the thoughts which his obser- 
 vation of her and her words generated in him, 
 rather to himself than to her. 
 
 " I was so ! " said the old woman, "s^ath a grim 
 
 smile ; " and, accordingly, I too tasted the sweets 
 
 and the bitterness thereof. Both flavours have passed 
 away ! " 
 
 " Ay ! but it happens, sometimes, that the latter 
 flavour remains in the mouth many a long year 
 after the first has gone for ever I " said Giulio. 
 
 " How so ? " retm^led the old woman, shaq^ly, 
 ■with a fierce flash from her eyes, and a scowl on 
 her hea^y brow. " What is your meaning, Signor 
 Capitano ? If you have any, speak it out at once, 
 and plainly." 
 
 " Is it not too plain that it is so ?" returned Giulio, 
 calmly, and sm-pnsed at the old woman's manner. 
 " What has been the case ^\T[th my mifortunate 
 mother? Do you think the bitterness is not still
 
 74 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 present with her, if, indeed, she is still living to 
 suffer?" 
 
 " In the case of youi* mother ? " said Signora 
 Varani, more quietly ; '^ yes, doubtless it is so ! 
 She has been very unfortunate, and the bitterness 
 of her fate, if I am to judge by my son's letter, 
 has not ceased with her, even if she herself has 
 escaped from it." 
 
 "As regards myself, you mean, Signora?" re- 
 joined Giulio. " Nay, my position in that respect 
 weighs less heavily on me than -you might imagine. 
 
 Unless, indeed " he added hastily, as the thought 
 
 of the influence his birth might exercise on his 
 hopes of Stella dashed across his mind; but he 
 checked himself suddenly, and continued: "In 
 truth, it irks me but little not to have been bom 
 the heu' to h Marquisate. The days are at hand, 
 nay, they have come, when it imports more to an 
 Italian man what he is, than what his father was. 
 I have made some steps towards finding for myself 
 a place in the world which suits me better than 
 that which would have been mine had the union of 
 my parents been a legitimate one. And I am not 
 afraid of the prospect before me as regards tread- 
 ing the remainder of the path. No ! beheve me, 
 Signora, the sole thought that has brought me 
 hither and urged me to my present quest, is the 
 desire to laiow my mother, and the hope of allevi- 
 ating her sorrows."
 
 MARTA VARANI. 75 
 
 " And you do not burn with any noble ambition 
 to be Mardiese Malatesta and heir to all the ^lala- 
 testa wealth, even if it were within youi' reach ? " 
 said Marta, looking fixedly at him. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! " said he, smiling. " How should 
 I ever have thought of what is as much out of my 
 reach as it would be to be the Emperor of Russia? 
 But, honestly, I have no more regret in not being 
 one of those great potentates than the other. If 
 you won't think me too great a coxcomb, I don't 
 mind admitting, Signora, that I prefer, on the 
 whole, being Captain Giulio Malatesta, of the 
 Lancers, in his Piedmontese Majesty's service ! " 
 
 " Unless, indeed as you were saying just 
 
 now, Signor Capitano ? " 
 
 " Well, I stopped short in what I had been about 
 to say, Signora, because I doubted whether I 
 should like to go on ! " said Malatesta, laughing ; 
 " but to the mother of my friend Pietro I do not 
 mind acknowledging," he continued, A^dth a bright 
 blush, " that the circumstances of my birth would 
 be felt as a calamity by me, if they should exercise 
 a disastrous influence on my hopes of winning the 
 hand of a certain fair lady." 
 
 " I suppose you have done the other part of the 
 winning ? " said the old woman, spealdng more 
 kindly to him than she had done hitherto. 
 
 " I have reason to hope that her heart is mine," 
 said Giulio.
 
 76 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " And Avoulcl it be encroaching too far on your 
 confidence to ask -vvlio the fair lady maj be ? " 
 asked the old woman, vdi\\ a very grim smile, which 
 was intended to be a very- kind one. " Look you 
 here, Signor Capitano," she went on, before he had 
 time to answer her, " I don't like many people, and 
 specially I am not apt to take a liking to new faces, 
 however good-looking they may be, the first time 
 of seeing them. But I do like a man who has no 
 desire to become Marchese IMalatesta, and who 
 would rather make his own place in the world than 
 find it ready made for him. And it may be — it is 
 possible that it might be — that I could lend you a 
 helping hand in one way or another. There are 
 more folks in the world, and in all sorts of queer 
 corners of it, who would do a tm'n for poor old 
 Marta Yarani, than you would think for." 
 
 " Thanks for your kind opinion, Signora. \^niat 
 you ask is no secret. The lady in question is 
 the Contessina Stella Altamari of Florence. And 
 strangely enough, I leam by her letters, that since 
 I have left Florence her family have proposed to 
 her, and attempted to compel her to marry — of all 
 people in the world that the malice of Fortune 
 could have selected — the Marchesino Alfonso Mala- 
 testa of Fermo ! " 
 
 " Yom- father's legitimate son and lieir ! " ex- 
 claimed the old woman — " vom' half-brother ! By
 
 MARTA VARAXI. 77 
 
 all the saints, it is a queer tui-n of Fortune's wlieel ! 
 And what sort of a gentleman may this Marche- 
 sinobe?" 
 
 " I know nothing of him — never saw him — 
 scarcely ever heard of him. It is enough that 
 Stella has no likino" for him — would have no liking; 
 for him, even if he had not been forced on her as 
 a pretender to her hand." 
 
 " And how came such a proposal to be made ? " 
 asked Signora Varani. 
 
 " It was the doincr of an uncle of the Contessina 
 Stella's, it seems — a certain Canonico Altamari. 
 He is bent on miiting two large properties to- 
 gether." 
 
 " So the Canonico Altamari is bent on marr\^ng 
 his niece. Has the lady father or mother ? " 
 
 " Neither, Signora ; she lives ^\dth an aunt, the 
 Contessa Zenobia Altamari." 
 
 " And the priest uncle is bent on marrying his 
 niece to the Malatesta Marquisate, and the ]\Iala- 
 testa estates ? " 
 
 " That is the state of the case." 
 
 "And the Lady Stella prefers the illegitimate son, 
 who fought at Curtatone, and is captain of Lan- 
 cers, with no estates at all, to the legitimate Mar- 
 quis, who is a faithful son of ^lother Church, and 
 who has all that such a legitimate Marquis and 
 faithful son should have, eh ? "
 
 78 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " That also is, I believe, the state of the case," 
 answered Giulio, smiling at the odd manner of 
 the old lad}' . 
 
 ^' Hmnph !" she said, placing both hands on the 
 handle of her stick, and leanmg her forehead upon 
 them in front of her chair. 
 
 " Look you, Signor Capitano," she resumed, after 
 a pause, as she raised her head to look at him, 
 " you shall do me the pleasure of leaving me for 
 half an horn*, for I want to think. Go and take a 
 turn in the cloisters of the church over there ; it is 
 a pleasant sunny place enough — it was there your 
 poor mother used to walk and listen to the words 
 of the noble gentleman who deceived her — and 
 come back to me in half an liom\ I want to think 
 of a thing or two." 
 
 Giulio, not a little surprised, and somewhat 
 amused at the strangeness of the old woman's 
 wdiims, did as he was bid; and for want of any 
 better mode of occuppng the prescribed half -hour, 
 adopted her suggestion of spending it in the Domi- 
 nican cloister. 
 
 It seemed that the old woman's blunt request 
 had expressed her pm*pose simply and truly. For 
 as soon as the door had closed behind her guest, 
 she remained awhile apparently plunged in absorb- 
 ing meditation. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! ho, ho, ho !" she laughed suddenly,
 
 MARTA VARANI. 79 
 
 with as much bitterness as merriment in her tone. 
 " I SAvear by all the saints it would be worth doing, 
 if it were only for the fun of it ! What a cawing 
 and fluttering there would be in the rookery ! It 
 don't come easy, though, after so long," she mut- 
 tered to herself, after a pause ; " and yet what should 
 I care for now," she continued, musingly ; " I did 
 care once ! I had my whistle, and paid for it ! I 
 didn't think it would . ever cost so dear, though ! 
 And now the play is over — very nearly over, as far 
 as I have any part to play in it — very nearly over ! 
 And what do I care wdiat they say! I wonder 
 how I ever came to care so much as I did ! For I 
 did care ! ' You must have been a handsome 
 woman,' said the young Captain ! There were 
 others fomid that out before him. I suppose one 
 cares more for what the world says, when one is 
 fed on its admiration and praise ! And then, when 
 the thing was done, it was terribly difficult to undo 
 it again. There's lots of other things like that ! 
 And then Pietro? Wiat about Pietro? The 
 largest and noblest heart, said the stranger, that 
 ever was in a man's bosom. He's not far out, the 
 stranger ! I wonder how it was that Pietro and I 
 were never closer to each other. I wish he had 
 been a good-looking lad ! And yet it was for his 
 
 sake No ! that's a lie, Marta Yarani ! It was for 
 
 your own sake. And now, Avhen your share of the
 
 80 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 game is over, you'll make your snivelKng confession, 
 and leave the shame of it to him. And yet — I 
 wonder what Pietro would say, if he were asked ! 
 Don't I know that's a lie again, to pretend to 
 have any doubt what he would say! Let right 
 be done, he would say ! No mistake about that ! 
 The largest heart in that ugly misshapen car- 
 case of his I The Captain there could find that 
 out, though that pretty fool, Maddalena Tacca, 
 could not. The largest and noblest heart, said he. 
 My notion is, that his own is not one of the smallest 
 or least noble I I like that Captain Malatesta. 
 He is handsome outside as well as in. I wish I 
 could have had such a son as he ! Well, well ! I 
 have nearly done A^dth wishing at this time of day ! 
 Poor Pietro I how would it be to him ? The Cap- 
 tain there has one misf ortmie ; he is on the sunny 
 side of the world's hedge, all but in that respect. 
 He is brave, handsome, beloved by the girl he 
 loves, stands well Avith his fellows and friends ! 
 He is all right, save for the one blot. And my 
 son, poor Pietro ! How much of the world's smi- 
 shine has he had ? And now to take the one blot 
 out of the Captain's lot and transfer it to his ! To 
 say to him, ' This bright and happy fellow, yom- 
 friend here, has got only one little bm'den laid on 
 his shoulder b}> fate. You have such a fardel that 
 it can't make much difference to you to carry 
 his for him also ! ' That is what I must sav to
 
 MARTA VAEANI. 81 
 
 Pietro. Ay ! but is it his and not Pietro's ? 
 Justice ! Pshaw ! ^Yhen is there justice in this 
 world ! It would be very hard on poor Pietro. 
 Poor Pietro, who has so little of good on this 
 earth ! No, Marta Varani, that is not it ! You 
 are Ipng again. I will tell the truth to myself, 
 whoever else I may lie to ! It was for myself and 
 not for him that I chd it ; and it is for myself and 
 not for him, that I am now afraid of undoing it. 
 What would it matter to him, the Professor at 
 Pisa ! Not the difference of a fig's end ! ^Vliat 
 would it matter to the handsome young Captain 
 there ? Everything ! Give him his vnie ! no 
 doubt about that ! Find him his mother ! For 
 the old scoundrel at Fermo would have to speak 
 out then, and if the poor soul is above ground we 
 should soon find her. G ive the scoundrel Marchese 
 liis due ! Make the aristocrats eat such dirt, that 
 it would be a treat to see them at it ! Secure the 
 wealth to the good cause ! And what stands in 
 the way of all that ? Only I ! Not Pietro ; only I. 
 How to stand up against the scorn and the oppro- 
 brium, and the reprobation for not having spoken 
 during these years ! That is the point ! It can't 
 be for long ; that's one thing. The play is nearly 
 played out for me. If it were only quite played 
 out ! If I could be sure the end was close at hand ! 
 Wait till then ? Speak my secret, and then be off 
 VOL. III. G
 
 82 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 without waiting to hear what any one may have 
 to say about it ! I do not think tlie end is far off ; 
 and I am sure I am tired enough ! If I wait 
 awhile, till I am sure of my escape? Ay! but 
 waiting may spoil all for him." 
 
 At this point of the meditations, represented by 
 the above plirases as acciu'ately as the unspoken 
 working of the mind can be translated into words, 
 the old woman was interrupted by the return of 
 Giulio from his half-hour's banishment. Her first 
 thought on his return was that she had not half 
 done thinking yet — that she needed more time for 
 coming to some decision on the doubts which had 
 been the subject of her pondering. 
 
 " The half-hour is gone, is it ? " she said ; " I 
 thought I had not been alone half that time ! But 
 now, young sir, I mil tell you what I recommend 
 in the first instance. I can give the name and 
 address of the people with whom your mother 
 lodged at Belfiore, near Foligno. Go there, and 
 ascertain if they can furnish you with any informa- 
 tion, or any clue. It is possible ; and you would 
 not be satisfied without having made the attempt. 
 And when you have done this, whether mtli any 
 success or not, come back here to me. I do not 
 despair of being able to help you. Come back, 
 do you hear, in any case, whether you leani any- 
 thino; at Belfiore or not. Do not take any further
 
 MARTA VARANI. 83 
 
 step mthout first coming back to me. Do you 
 agree to that ? " 
 
 '' I will do so, Signora, in any case ; and feel 
 truly gi'ateful for your readiness to assist me," 
 said Giulio. 
 
 " Ah ! truly grateful ! And will you continue 
 truly gi-ateful to old Marta Varani, if I should 
 succeed in finding your mother for you ? " 
 
 " I trust so, Signora ! Surely I should, to the 
 end of my days." 
 
 " To the end of my days would be enough ! 
 Well, perhaps, we shall see ! Now I ^^dll get you 
 the address at Belfiore." 
 
 And the old woman, after a little searching in a 
 cabinet containing a quantity of papers, took out 
 an old yellow letter, which had been wTitten to 
 Pietro by the woman with whom Maddalena had 
 lodged at Belfiore, after her departure thence. 
 From this she made him copy the name and 
 addi'ess, and dismissed him. 
 
 The next morning Giulio started for Foligno. 
 
 g2
 
 84 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 
 
 It will not be necessary to follow Captain Ma- 
 latesta in his expedition to Belfiore. It was tedious, 
 disappointing, and finally fruitless. His first in- 
 quiries at the little \411age were met by the infor- 
 mation, that the owner of the house in which his 
 mother had lived more than twenty years ago had 
 died shortly after that time ; that his widow had 
 married again, and was now living at Viterbo. He 
 went thither, and after some little difficulty found 
 out the person he was in quest of, only to be told 
 that, though remembering all the circumstances to 
 which he referred perfectly well, she was unable 
 to afford him any information on the point in 
 question. The poor lady had gone away, ap- 
 parently willingly, with the gentleman who had
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 85 
 
 come from Rome, and who had represented him- 
 self as about to retm-n thither immediately. But 
 a maid-servant, who had been living in the house 
 at Belfiore at the time, had been just about to ^dsit 
 her relatives at Foligno at the time of the gentle- 
 man's aiTival from Eome. And he had kindly 
 permitted her to avail herself, on his retm'n, of his 
 carriage for the little joui-ney from Belfiore to that 
 city. She had sat in the carriage with the two 
 travellers dm-ing the hour or so which that short 
 drive would occupy. It was veiy possible, there- 
 fore, that she might have become acquainted with 
 their plans when they should have arnved at 
 Rome. This woman was still living at Belfiore. 
 It was worth while to speak with her ; especially 
 as the little village at the foot of the Apennine was 
 very little out of the road by Avhich Giulio must 
 needs return to Bologna. 
 
 He went back again therefore to Belfiore ; — to be 
 again disappointed. The person in question re- 
 membered well her little journey to Foligno Avith 
 the poor lady and the strange gentleman in black- 
 But all she could report was, that the lady was 
 weeping during the whole time, and no word what- 
 ever passed between her and the gentleman. 
 
 There appeared no fm-ther chance of obtaining 
 at Belfiore any clue to the information he was in 
 search of. Nevertheless, Giulio did not regret his
 
 86 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 journey tliither. He had no difficulty in meeting 
 with many persons who remembered the circum- 
 stances of his mother's residence in the village. 
 Specially one, a daughter of the family in which 
 she had Hved, who must have been a year or so 
 younger than Maddalena Tacca, and who was at 
 the time of Giulio's \^sit li^dng in the \'illage, the 
 mother of childi'en now nearly of the same age, 
 had apparently been her frequent companion, re- 
 membered her still ^yit]l interest, and was well 
 pleased to talk with Giulio by the hour together of 
 his mother and of her habits and mode of life 
 while at Belfiore. 
 
 Susanna Bu'aggi — that was the married name of 
 Maddalena's f onner companion — told at length how 
 happy in each other the handsome yomig couple 
 had appeared when they first came there. She 
 related how letters had arrived which were as the 
 first gathering clouds of the storm, that so soon 
 wi'ecked that smnmer-tide happiness. She de- 
 scribed the growing paleness of the young bride's 
 cheek, and gro^\dng alienation of the man on whose 
 affection her life-springs depended. She told the 
 story of his departm'e ; of the lingering hope, wliich 
 would not be killed, that he would return ; of the 
 letters from Fermo, and the terrible despah' which 
 followed them. She showed Giulio the favourite 
 walk beneath the poplars by the side of the little
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 87 
 
 stream, where it issues from its ra\4ne iii the 
 Apennine, where his mother used to take her soli- 
 tary walk, and the stone bench under the roadside 
 Madonna, where day after day, mth ever renascent 
 hope, she would await the coming of the postman 
 from Foligno. 
 
 And all these reminiscences were inexpressibly 
 valuable to Giulio. He led his new acquaintance 
 acrain and acrain to describe to him the reoular- 
 f eatui'ed, oval-visaged, delicate-complexioned beauty 
 of his mother's face, and the tal], slender figm'e, so 
 elastic in its springy gait at first, so sadly cbooping 
 in the latter part of her residence among the vil- 
 lagers. And he felt, as he listened to all. this, and 
 fed his fancy with the images supplied by the asso- 
 ciations attached to the localities, as if the indi- 
 viduality of his unknown mother was assuming a 
 consistency in his imagination, which made it pos- 
 sible for her to become the object of a more per- 
 sonal and less merely theoretic love than he had 
 before been capable of feeling for her. But it w^as 
 with a passionate emotion, strangely composed of 
 sweet and bitter feelings, that he heard Signora 
 Biraggi tell how the deserted wife's consciousness 
 that she was about to become a mother, had, con- 
 trary to Nature's sweet provision, been turned to 
 sorrow, and ch'ead, and agony. And oh ! how 
 eagerly he longed that it might yet be possible for
 
 88 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 him to restore tlie joy of motherhood to that poor 
 tortm'ed heart, and teach the victim even yet to 
 tliank God that she had brought a child into the 
 world. 
 
 Giulio retm'ned from Belfiore to Bologna with- 
 out having made the smallest step in advance to- 
 wards the discovery of his mother. But he did 
 not regret his jom-ney, nor the fortnight it had cost 
 him ; for the reminiscences of her which he had 
 gathered were xery precious to him. 
 
 On his return to Bologna, he found the letter 
 from Stella, which has been given in a former 
 chapter, awaiting him at the post-office ; and at his 
 hotel a note Avritten by a stranger on behalf of 
 Signora Yarani, urgently requesting him to lose no 
 time in coming to her. The language of the latter 
 was so pressing, that he would not have delayed 
 even the few minutes necessary to read the letter 
 he had just received at the post-office, had it been 
 written in any other hand. But it was impossible 
 to put off reading Stella's epistle. He ran over it, 
 therefore, hastily ; and putting it in his pocket for 
 reperusal at his first leism-e moment, hurried off to 
 the Piazza di San Domenico, anxiously weighing 
 in his mind, as he walked, the probable Aalue of 
 the mysterious hjnts in Stella's strange commu- 
 nication. 
 
 The door of Signora Varani's apartment was
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 89 
 
 opened to him by a stranger, who was, howe\ er, 
 evidently aware that he was expected. 
 
 " You are, I presume, the Signor Capitano jMa- 
 latesta ? " said the stranger. " You have come in 
 time ; and that is about as mucli as can be said. The 
 Signora Marta cannot last many hours. She has 
 been Yery anxious for yom- coming. I am Onesimo 
 Badaloni, doctor of medicine, at your sei-vice." 
 
 " Not last many hom's ! Her illness has been 
 very sudden, then ? Can I see her now dii'ectly ? 
 What has been the natm-e of her malady ? " 
 
 " Mainly old age ! " replied the physician. " She 
 has lived her time, and is worn out, that is all. 
 There have been slight symptoms of paralysis of the 
 heart, which in her case is likely enough to have 
 been brought on by any unusual excitement or 
 emotion. But, die vuole ! At seventy years of age 
 these things are occasions but not causes ! — Yes, 
 you can see her at once. She is perfectly herself, 
 and has been anxiously asking for you — wanting 
 to send to the hotel, to see if you had returned, 
 every half -hour. Come in, Signore. I will just 
 tell her you are here." 
 
 In half a minute Doctor Badaloni retimied 
 from the inner room, saying that the dying woman 
 begged Captain Malatesta to come to her imme- 
 diately. 
 
 As he entered the room, he met the gaze of the
 
 90 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 old woman, as she sat propped tip in bed, looking 
 eagerly towards the door. Her face seemed yet 
 more shimnken and fallen than before ; and her 
 breath appeared' to come short, and with some little 
 difficulty. But there were the great black eyes, 
 flaming out more brightly and fiercely than ever, 
 Giulio thought, from the yellow^, desiccated parch- 
 ment-looking face. 
 
 " So you have come at last ! Well for you that 
 you did not delay a little longer ; for I should not 
 have waited for you, I can . tell you ! Now have 
 the kindness, Signor Capitano, to see if the doctor 
 has left the house, and if the door is shut after 
 him : and call the girl out of the kitchen to me. 
 You are not to open the door," she said to the girl, 
 " to any one while this gentleman is with me, do 
 you understand? And you are to stay in the 
 kitchen yourself, and shut the door, do you hear ? 
 And do you close the door of this room after her, 
 Signor Capitano ! So ! now I can say what I have 
 to say to one pair of ears only. Stop a minute ! " 
 
 After lying back on the pillow for a few instants, 
 with her eyes closed to rally her failing strength, 
 she continued : 
 
 " It is not an easy matter to say what I have to 
 say even to one hearer, you see ; and therefore I 
 have no wish for more. Again and again I have 
 been tempted to wish that you might not come
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 91 
 
 back in time, and then I should have died and 
 kept my secret ; and it would not have been my 
 fault. But you are in luck ! and in good time. 
 I suppose," she added, after another pause of a 
 minute or so, " that you did not succeed in getting 
 any information at Belfiore ? " 
 
 " No ! Signora Varani ! I met with people who 
 remembered my poor mother well, and who could 
 tell me many things about her, but nothing to fm- 
 nish any clue to her present retreat. On my re- 
 turn to this city, however, I found a letter from 
 the young lady I mentioned to you the other day, 
 holding out the hope that the Superior of the con- 
 vent in which she has been placed, may be able to 
 give me the information I am in search of. It 
 would seem from her letter as if she were herself 
 in possession of more definite information, but were, 
 for some reason or other, forbidden to speak more 
 clearly." 
 
 " Where is the convent in which the young lady 
 is residing?" asked Signora Varani. 
 
 " At Montepulciano ; — a convent of Ursulines," 
 replied Giulio. 
 
 " The most likely thing for them to have done 
 vnth her was to bury her in a convent, poor thing !" 
 returned the old woman ; " and it is probable 
 enough that the Superior may know something of 
 her. Those people always keep up a coiTespon-
 
 92 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 deuce between one house and another of the same 
 order. Wliat shall you do ?" 
 
 " I must go and speak with this Abbess," said 
 Giulio ; " it is what Stella's letter invites me to do." 
 
 " Ah ! but you must first do what I am going to 
 in\dte you to do. Wlien you have done that, you 
 will find yom' mother safe enough ^ — if she is still 
 alive. You told me the other day, Signor Capi- 
 tano, that I must have been a beautiful woman in 
 my day. Well, I was so ! There were few guds 
 in Bologna more thought of than I was, when I 
 was in my prime. I was no worse than your 
 mother was, Signor Capitano, and she was a gTeat 
 beauty. Well ! the flies come romid the sugar 
 now-a-days; and they did just the same half a 
 centmy ago ! What happened to yom' mother, 
 happened to me. Not quite the same, though, to 
 be honest ; I knew what I was doing, and she did 
 not. In another way, however, the difference was 
 in my favour. The man I loved was worthy of a 
 Avoman's love. He became my husband — as soon 
 as circumstances made it convenient for him to 
 do so." 
 
 The dying w^oman lay back on the pillows gasp- 
 ing with the effort it had cost her to speak the 
 above sentences. Giulio offered her a glass of 
 water, but she put his hand away, and remained 
 perfectly still, but for the laborious heaving of her 
 chest, for several minutes.
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 93 
 
 "Now give me a drink of water," slie said, at 
 the end of that time. " There, that ^\'ill do," she 
 continued ; " I am not dead yet. I have time 
 enough for what remains to be said. Pietro Kttle 
 thought, when he sent you to me, what I coukl do 
 for you I Tell him so ; tell him that I sacrificed 
 the object of a lifetime, and spent my last breath 
 in doing it, because I knew that if he were here it 
 is what he would ^^ish me to do. Now take this 
 paper," she continued, ch-awing a sealed packet 
 from beneath the pillows mide^- her head. I pre- 
 pai'ed this after you were gone, as soon as I saw 
 that my end was at hand. But I am not sure that 
 I should not have destroyed it, if you had not come 
 back in time. Take it I There is a statement in 
 it made before a notaiy, and ^\-itnessed by him. 
 Perhaps it was not necessaiy to make it. But 
 what is more to the purpose, and would, I suppose, 
 have sufficed ^vithout the other, there is the adch'ess 
 of a place in the south of France to which you 
 ^WU have to go. Perhaps you may be short of 
 money for such a jom'ney. Take from that cabinet 
 the rouleau you will see just inside the door. 
 There are two hundi'ed and fifty dollars. You 
 will give all tliat you do not need to Pietro ; and 
 repay him afterwards whatever you use of it. 
 You will find directions what you are to do ; 
 it is all clear enough — -p^/r troppo !* — and as 
 
 * " Onlv too clear!"
 
 94 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 soon as you have the necessary papers you will 
 come back here at once, and cause right to be 
 done." 
 
 Here again she stopped, exhausted, and re- 
 mained for several minutes with her eyes closed, 
 and breathing heavily, while Giulio stood, wdth the 
 jDacket in his hand, anxiously watching the flicker- 
 ing flame of the expiring life, and lost in astonish- 
 ment at what he had heard. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, after a time, " I may not 
 be so near my end^ as I thought for. Maybe, I 
 may live yet a day or two ! I am sure I don't 
 want to ! I have had enough of it. But what I 
 was going to say was this ; and mind you obey 
 me!" she added, with a momentary gleam of the 
 old fire in her eyes : " You are not to open that 
 packet till the breath is out of my body, do you 
 hear ? As soon as I am dead, but not before ! 
 Do you promise ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Signora ! The papers are yours ! " 
 
 " Ay ! and the secret is mine ; mine, as long as 
 the breath remains in my body. You promise ? " 
 
 " I have promised, Signora ! This packet shall 
 not be opened by me till after your death." 
 
 " Very good ! Now you may tell the gh'l that 
 she may open the door, and let the priest come in 
 when he arrives. The doctor said he would send 
 him. Not that old Marta Varani wants any priest
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 95 
 
 to help her to die ! But they make such a bother, 
 you see, that it is easiest to let them have their 
 way! And now addio, Signor Oapitano. I am 
 glad my son sent you to me. Wlien you know 
 my secret, don't be hard upon me ; and remember, 
 that if I began by doing you an ill tm'n, I ended 
 by doing you a very good one. Addio /" 
 
 " But I can't leave you in this way, cai^a mia 
 Signoraj alone with that girl ! Pray allo^^' me to 
 
 remain "s\dtli you " said Giulio, feeling it to be 
 
 impossible to abandon the d}dng old woman to the 
 care of the young girl, who was the only li^-ing 
 creatm'e in the solitary habitation mth her. But 
 old Marta would not hear of his remaining. 
 
 " No ! no ! you must be off, and that quickly," 
 she said, " for I have another matter still to settle^ 
 before I die ; and there will be a certain person 
 here presently, who would not approve of the 
 presence of a thu'd, while he transacts his business. 
 I have to give up into proper safe keeping papers 
 that would hang and ruin half Bologna. He who 
 is to take charge of them mil be here directly. 
 And don't suppose, young sir," she added, after a 
 pause, " that old Marta Varani is left to die alone 
 and unfriended like a dog in a ditch ! I need but 
 to hold up my finger to have the room full of 
 watchers and friends. Ah ! if you were a Romag- 
 nole, you would know that I might have half the
 
 96 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 best men in Romagna by my death-bed, if I cliose 
 it. Addioj Signor Capitano ! If I die in the 
 course of the night, you may be off on your 
 journey to-morrow morning." 
 
 Thus dismissed, Giuho had no choice but to 
 leave the old woman as she bade him. 
 
 "Farewell then, Signora! since it must be so,' 
 said Giulio, taking in his one of the withered 
 hands that were lying on the counterpane of the 
 bed; "I would I had any better means of ex- 
 pressing my gratitude for the interest you have 
 taken in my affairs, than by merely sajdng I thank 
 you. But I am grateful. May God bless you ! " 
 
 "Wait, and see whether you will say as much 
 when you know the secret. JDo, if your heart will 
 let you. Addio I " 
 
 As Giulio stepped out upon the still piazza, with 
 no occupation before him in Bologna save to wait 
 for the last sigh of the strange woman he had just 
 left, he turned into the quiet cloister in which he 
 had spent half an hour at the old woman's bidding 
 on a former occasion, deeply musing on the strange- 
 ness of the scene he had just passed through, and 
 on all the possibilities that occmTcd to him as an 
 explanation of the secret which had been confided 
 to him. 
 
 What was the meaning of the hints which the 
 dying woman had let (h'op of a similarity between
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 97 
 
 her fate and tliat of his mother? And this 
 journey to France ? What could that have to do 
 with the discovery of his mother's place of retreat? 
 Had Marta Varani the means of knowing that she 
 was in France ? And what could be the explana- 
 tion of her anxiety that the secret, whatever it 
 might be, should not be discovered till after her 
 death ? 
 
 He di'ew out the sealed envelope which had been 
 given him, and gazed at it ! — a cover of thick 
 coarse paper, and a large seal, with the impress on 
 it of a small coin ! The packet was not large or 
 heaYj. There could be no great quantity of ^^Tit- 
 ing in it ! And tliis was about all that could be de- 
 duced from looking at it. 
 
 Then he took from his pocket Stella's letter, 
 and sat himself down on the slab beneath the red 
 marble effigy of the ancient waiTior, which marked 
 the spot where his mother had so often listened to 
 the false wooing that had Im'ed her to her fate ; and 
 having first cast a sharp glance along the cloister 
 right and left of him, to make sure that he was 
 alone, as his father had done in the same spot of 
 yore, he pressed the letter to his lips, and then 
 proceeded to re-read it, slowly and deliberately, 
 savouring every word of it. Of course the 
 penisal was exquisitely delightful to him. Of 
 coiu^se it gave him infinitely greater pleasure than 
 
 VOL. in. H
 
 98 GIULTO MALATESTA. 
 
 any other composition, thougli it sliould have com- 
 bined the most impassioned eloquence with the 
 choicest treasm'es of imagination, coukl have done. 
 But when he came to read for the thu'd time, and 
 ponder on those parts in which the mysterious hints 
 were thrown out of the probabihty that a clue 
 might be furnished him to the finding of his 
 mother, and compare them mth what he had been 
 hearing from the mother of the Professor, he could 
 make nothing of the mystery. The old woman, 
 who was then dying in the neighbom'ing house, 
 had strictly enjoined on him to go first on the 
 eiTand on which she was sending liim to France, 
 before proceeding to see the Abbess at ^lontepul- 
 ciano. Should he obey her in this respect? No 
 undertaking to do so was included in the promise 
 he had given her. The temptation that drew him 
 towards Montepulciano was very strong. What 
 connexion could there be, or rather could there be 
 any connexion, between the hopes Signora Yarani 
 might have of tracing his mother by means of 
 information to be sought in the south of France, 
 and those which Stella held out of finchng her by 
 the help of the Superior of the Montepulciano 
 convent ? And yet, again, Signora Yarani, when 
 he had told her of Stella's hints respecting the 
 information to be derived from the Abbess, had 
 seemed to think it probable that the desired clue 
 might be found in that manner !
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 99 
 
 Possibly the opening of the packet would f ui'nish 
 him with the means of comprehending the matter, 
 and coming to a decision respecting his movements, 
 as soon as the old woman should be no more. Till 
 that event, he was fully decided to remain in 
 Bologna. 
 
 Before leaving that part of the city to return 
 to his inn, he went up again to the door of 
 Signora Varani's apartment, and inquired after 
 her of the girl who opened the door. He was 
 told that she seemed to be no worse, and that she 
 was en^ao-ed in business Avith a gentleman who 
 had come shortly after he, Giulio, had left the 
 house. It was very possible, he thought to him- 
 self, that the old woman might live some days 
 longer — on the cards, even, that she might so far 
 recover as to live for years! And -s^itli these 
 thoughts in hisiisiarl, he sat do^vn to ^mte to 
 Stella in answer to her letter, intending to enclose 
 his to her in one to the Superior of the convent. 
 
 "Bologna, Jan. 29, 1851. 
 
 "I wonder, my o^A^l beloved, whether you can 
 figure to yourself the delight your darling letter 
 has given me. Of course you ^^-ill say you can 
 measure it by the pleasure these present lines ^vill 
 give you ! But is it quite the same thing ? You 
 know pretty well, in a general way, what my life 
 u2
 
 100 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 has been. You have had nothing to fear for me. 
 You do not need to be told that my heart is as 
 much — nay more, Stella, certainly more — your 
 own, than when we parted at the veglione, at 
 three o'clock on Shrove-Tuesdav morninfj. I 
 need that information, it is true, as little as you 
 do ; and yet it is very" sweet to receive it too ! 
 But then, think of my anxiety to hear a voice 
 from that voiceless gi-ave in which they have 
 buried you. Oh ! my Stella, when I think that 
 the drear}", dreary months of your imprisonment 
 have been the penalty and the proof of yom* love, 
 I have no words which can express to you my 
 tenderness and gratitude. And when I reflect on 
 the trouble and difficulties which may yet be 
 before us, I almost feel as if I ought to repent me 
 of the wrong I did you in telling you my love, 
 and daring to ask for yours in retm*n. It is no 
 true repentance, however, I fear. For that, we 
 are taught, implies such change of mind as would 
 assuredly prevent us from repeating the sin. And, 
 my Stella, no such repentance is mine ! If the 
 deed were to be done afresh, if that ever-memorable 
 nio'ht were to be passed over again, with the 
 trembling hopes and horrible fears of its earlier 
 hom's, and the intoxicating triumph and joy of its 
 conclusion, I should again be guilty of the selfish- 
 ness of seeking to unite yom' fate with mine ! I
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 101 
 
 cannot repent, my beloved, tliougli my heart bleeds 
 to think on what you have gone through ; and 
 my admiration for the heroism of your resistance 
 admonishes me what the man ought to be who 
 should be worthy of you. 
 
 ^' Of com'se you mil have imagined all the 
 wondering, and puzzling, and speculation which the 
 latter part of your letter is causing me. You will 
 see also, by the date of this, that it has been an 
 extraordinary long time in reaching me. Wliy it 
 should have been so I have no means of guessing. 
 You excuse yourself for writing mysteriously, tell- 
 ing me that you are not permitted to speak more 
 clearly. Will you believe that I am not revenging 
 myself in kind when you shall read this letter, and 
 find that I am about to write to you in precisely 
 similar strain, with a precisely similar excuse. It 
 is strange enough that two such perfectly un- 
 mysterious persons as you and I should find 
 themselves obliged each to play the sphynx to the 
 other ! 
 
 " My riddle is as follows : 
 
 '' You know mth what object I have come to 
 Bologna. You know enough of my poor mother's 
 story to understand why it should seem possible 
 that some clue to her place of concealment might 
 be found in this city. You will, no doubt, remem- 
 ber, also, the unfortunate connexion between her
 
 102 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 miserable story and my excellent friend Professor 
 Varani at Pisa. Well ! he gave me a letter to his 
 mother, a very strange old lady, living here all by 
 herself, at seventy years of age, or near it. Some 
 day I will describe to you at length her eccentric 
 manner of receiAdng me. For the present, it will 
 suffice to tell you of the upshot of my interviews 
 Arith her. In the first place, she sent me off to 
 Belfiore, a village near Foligno, where my mother 
 lived immediately after her mihappy mamage. It 
 was possible that tidings might be heard of her 
 there, and I went. I did, indeed, succeed in 
 gathering many reminiscences of her from those 
 who recollected her, which were inexpressibly 
 precious to me, but no shadow of infonnation 
 that could help me to discover her. I returned 
 hither, and found in the first place your dear 
 letter, my o^\^l love, infinitely dear, despite all 
 its intelligibilities ; for would it not be so, even 
 if couched in hieroglyphics, so that it were only 
 certam that your own darling little hand had traced 
 them! 
 
 " But I found, also, a summons calling me in all 
 haste to the bedside of Signora Yarani, who had 
 been taken suddenly ill dming my absence, and 
 who was, and is still, to all appearances, dying. 
 Well, my Stella, after much veiy strange and 
 entirely unintelligible talk, she handed me a sealed
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 103 
 
 packet, making me promise solemnly not to open 
 it till after her death, and at the same time telliiiir 
 me that she was rendering me a great servace ; that 
 I must immediately after her death go to the south 
 of France, to an address which I shall find within 
 the packet, and that I shay, after that, have no 
 difficulty in finding my mother ! Was ever any- 
 thing so inexplicably mysterious? It is possible 
 that the opening of the packet may, in some 
 degree, solve the mysteiy, for she spoke of " direc- 
 tions," and of a " statement." But it seems at 
 least equally probable that the explanation may 
 only be reached when I have made the journey 
 she bids me. At all events, I have determined to 
 obey her, and go to the place to which I am 
 dh'ected. I Avill not throw away the possibility of 
 a chance. Moreover, the old lady laid much stress 
 on her injunctions that I should make this jom'ney 
 before going to Montepulciano. For I told her 
 all about the mystenous hopes held out in your 
 letter. And although you may guess, my heart's 
 treasm-e, how eager I am to respond to the invita- 
 tion, which may possibly afford me a chance of 
 seeing you, I shall nevertheless obey Signora 
 Varani in this also. There was a strange manner 
 about her which strongly impressed me with the 
 idea that she knew more about the matter than she 
 chose to tell me. And I think that if you liad
 
 104 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 heard her, you avouIcI feel with me, that it would he 
 foolish not to be guided by her direction in the 
 matter. 
 
 " Here, then, my Stella, is my myster}^ ; and I 
 flatter myself that, mystery for mystery^, it is as 
 mysterious as yours^ May the discoveiy I would 
 give so much to make result from one or both of 
 them ! 
 
 "And now, my own, what shall I say to you 
 of myself? I can make no pretence to braverv', 
 constancy, and heroism such as yom's, dearest ! 
 My life, since the great piece of good fortune 
 which gave me my commission, has been a hum- 
 drum and ordinary one enough, busied with the 
 regular duties of my profession, but prosperovis to 
 a degree tnily beyond my deserts. And my pro- 
 spects for the futm*e are good. I may say to you, 
 my own love, that I stand well with my superiors, 
 and look forward to my career with the confidence 
 of doing something. The opportunity, moreover, 
 will not be wanting; for, depend on it, Stella, 
 Italy has not said her last word. Our recent 
 heaw mischances have been a check, but not a 
 final defeat. There will be, assvu'edly, work for 
 Italian swords before long ! And the upward path 
 will be open to those who are minded to tread it. 
 
 " As to our mutual hopes for the future, what 
 can I say ? It would be too presumptuous in me
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 105 
 
 to talk of firmness and courageous hope to you, 
 who have shown so much of them. But I may 
 speak my owti conviction, that with patience we 
 shall triumph over the obstacles in our way. Re- 
 member, when the members of your family talk of 
 condemning you to the veil, that they cannot msh 
 to see the Altamari property go away, as it in that 
 case would, to a distant branch of the family. 
 Would, my Stella, that it were all gone away, to 
 the distant branch or anywhere else, so that it did 
 not stand, as it does, in the way of our happiness ! 
 
 " And now, dearest, I must bring this uncon- 
 scionably long letter to an end. I am about to 
 enclose it in one to your Superior, knowing well — 
 pur troppo ! — that that is the only means by which 
 it can reach you. From your account of the 
 Abbess, I presume that it has a fair chance of 
 doing so through her. My letter to her will, of 
 course, be merely to say that, in consequence of 
 the messages which have reached me, I shall wait 
 upon her at the earliest date my avocations will 
 permit of my doing so. 
 
 " I must in any case remain here till all shall be 
 over mth the poor old Signora Varani. As soon 
 as that is the case, and I am at liberty to break the 
 seal of her packet, I shall write again. 
 
 " Your o^YTv 
 
 " GlULIO.
 
 106 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " P.S. — Tidings have reached me of certain dif- 
 ferences in your ecclesiastical world of Montepul- 
 ciano, wliicli might eventually lead to the removal 
 of your Abbess to Florence, and, as a consequence, 
 to your o^vn recal thither. I hardly know whether 
 such an event would be desirable for us or not, 
 under all the circumstances. But I do not hesitate 
 to address this letter to Montepulciano. For if 
 any such move had already taken place, I should 
 not have been left by our friends in ignorance 
 of it. 
 
 " Once again, my beloved one, now and ever, 
 
 " Youi' 0\Y1\ 
 
 " GlULIO." 
 
 The letter to the Abbess, in which the foregoing 
 was enclosed, ran as follows : 
 
 " Reverend Mother, — 
 " I take the liberty of addressing your maternity 
 in consequence of a communication received by me 
 from the lady to whom the enclosed is addressed, 
 and to wliom, I trust, you will feel it to be con- 
 sistent with your duty to deliver it. The letter 
 from her, to which I refer, though bearing date 
 some months since, only reached me at this city 
 yesterday. The delay in replying to it, therefore, 
 has been from no neglect of mine.
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 107 
 
 " It appears, from what the Lady Stella has 
 written, that some conversations have passed be- 
 tween your maternity and her, from which certain 
 particulars of my personal history have become 
 known to you, and you have been made aware of 
 my earnest wish and endeavour to find out the 
 unfortmiate mother from whom I was separated 
 before I could have the blessing of knowing her. 
 It would seem also, from what the Contessiha 
 Stella writes to me, that your maternity has reason 
 to suppose that it might be possible for you to 
 afford me infonnation Avhich might assist me in 
 the search in which I am engaged ; and that with 
 so holy and chai'itable an object in view, you would 
 have the kindness to admit me to speech with your 
 maternity, if I would wait upon you at Montepul- 
 ciano. Business here, connected with the same 
 great object of my life, makes it impossible for me 
 instantly to go to Montepulciano for this purpose ; 
 but your maternity may rely on my not failing to 
 do so very shortly. 
 
 " With the most heartfelt thanks for the charity 
 which has prompted your maternity to offer yom' 
 assistance to a motherless son engaged in a quest 
 which cannot but be deemed a holy and pious one, 
 " I am, of your maternity, 
 
 " The obedient and devoted son, 
 
 " GiULio Malatesta, Captain."
 
 108 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 lYhen Ginlio liacl finislied his ^Tiling, he pro- 
 ceeded to read over his letters, and was sufficiently 
 well contented with the latter and shorter one, the 
 composition of which had cost him some thought 
 and study. But with his letter to his love, which 
 had run from his pen as fast as his hand could 
 write it, he was profoundly disgusted. It seemed 
 utterly to fail in expressing his feelings — cold — 
 flat — and jejune. He had nearly determined on 
 tearing it up and beginning again, and was only 
 deterred from doing so by the conviction that he 
 should succeed no better. He at last, therefore, in 
 Yerj ill humour '\\dth his own capacities, contented 
 himself with adding a second postscript, to the fol- 
 lowing effect : 
 
 " On reading over my letter to you, my Stella, I 
 am disgusted at finding how totally it fails to tell 
 
 }'0u how anything, in short, of all I long to 
 
 tell you, and that it seems to me I could tell you, 
 if I could have the ineffable delio-ht of doino; so. 
 Perhaps, if I had that chance, I should not be 
 more able to speak than I am to ^^^.'ite ! I am not 
 good at either, my Stella. But though I cannot 
 imitate the eloquence of your dear letters, which 
 bring the tears into my eyes eveiy time I read 
 them, I can love ! And I can only implore of you, 
 my dear one, to believe that the heart may feel
 
 THE SEALED PACKET. 109 
 
 more than the unready tongue or the unpractised 
 pen can succeed in expressing. — G. M." 
 
 It was late in the night before Giulio had com- 
 pleted, sealed, and addressed his letters. Early 
 the next morning his first care was to post his 
 packet, and his second to hurr}' to the Piazza di 
 San Domenico. He met the medical man cominoj 
 down the staircase, and learned from him that 
 Signora Yarani had ralHed a little dm'ing the 
 night ; that it was very possible she might live yet 
 a few days; but that he did not think it at all 
 probable that her life would be prolonged beyond 
 that time. 
 
 There was nothing for it, therefore, but for 
 Giulio to resign himself, with such patience as he 
 might, to a.waiting the event in Bologna.
 
 110 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 Stella's return ho3Ie. 
 
 On the first of March — about four weeks, that is 
 to say, after the date of the letters given in the last 
 chapter — a large packet aiTivecl from Montepul- 
 ciano at Florence, addressed, " To the Very Re- 
 verend and Illustrious Signor, the Signor Canonico 
 Adalberto Altamari." It was sealed ^^^th the seal 
 of the Chancery of the Diocese of Montepulciano, 
 and it contained the two letters from Giulio to the 
 Abbess and to Stella, together mth another to the 
 Canonico Altamari, couched in the following 
 tenns : 
 
 " Very Reverend Sir, and esteemed 
 Brother in Christ, — 
 "Beyond all doubt, your reverence, placed as 
 you are by Providence and by your illustrious rank
 
 Stella's return home. Ill 
 
 in a position in the metropolis whicli enables you 
 to observe and take note of the transactions of the 
 Universal Church, will have had your attention 
 called to the deplorable disorders and scandals 
 which have vexed and are still likely further to 
 afflict this poor diocese of Montepulciano. It is 
 well known in high quarters, and therefore, of 
 course, to your illustrious reverence, that the many 
 Christian graces and admirable wtues which 
 adorn the character of om- estimable Bishop, and 
 which, despite the adverse feeling of nearly CA'ery 
 other dignitar\^ in the diocese, have rendered him 
 especially beloved and honoured by me, are, 
 nevertheless, not of that kind which are needed 
 for the judicious government and administration of 
 a diocese in these difficult times. The result is, 
 that vers" deplorable irregularities and scandals 
 have arisen, to the great grief and perplexity of 
 the more judicious, more zealous, and more right- 
 minded members of the clergy; and that a larger 
 portion of the duty of struggling against these, 
 and finding remeches for them, has fallen on mv 
 humble shoulders than would have been the case 
 in a diocese niled by — I may venture to say in 
 confidence to your illustrious reverence — a more 
 competent Bishop. It is unquestionably true that 
 the responsible- and laborious position of Chancellor 
 of this diocese, in which, after having labom'ed for
 
 112 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 a long course of years, I was suffered to remain at 
 the death of our late Bishop, of blessed memory, to 
 the surprise certainly, but God forbid that I should 
 say to the scandal of all the diocese^ renders it 
 fitting that I should not shrink from the discharge 
 of duties that, in a more fortunately-ch'cumstanced 
 church, would fall to the share of the Bishop. It 
 is true, also, that the office of Director of the Con- 
 vent, the internal government of which has brought 
 it recently so disastrously before the Christian 
 world, has been discharged by me, I think I may 
 venture to say, in such a manner as to have 
 secured the unvarjdng confidence and esteem of 
 those holy sisters for very many years ; and that 
 this circumstance also makes it, in a gi-eat mea- 
 sure, incumbent upon me to supply the want 
 occasioned by what the general voice, less favom- 
 able than my own sentiments dispose me to feel 
 towards him, does not scruple to call the deplorable 
 inefficiency and incompetency of the Bishop. 
 
 " It is under these circumstances, and for these 
 reasons, very reverend and illustrious sir, that I 
 have felt it to be my duty to promote an inquiry 
 into certain particulars of the character and con- 
 duct of the Superior, who was recently appointed 
 to the government of the convent of Ursuline 
 nuns in this city. And you will readily compre- 
 hend, very reverend and illustrious sir, that in
 
 Stella's return home. 113 
 
 taking all the circumstances of the case into my 
 consideration, and being aware that the convent is 
 honoured by ha\ang been selected by you as the 
 temporary residence of your niece, the Signora 
 Contessa Stella Altamari, I have felt it to be my 
 duty to communicate to you the position of the 
 commimity and the suspicions that attach to the 
 character of the Superior. That person will in all 
 probabihty very shortly be summoned by the eccle- 
 siastical authorities to Florence, wdth a view to her 
 deposition from the high office to which she was as 
 unfortunately, as, I venture to think, inconside- 
 rately, promoted ; and as it has appeared to me pro- 
 bable that your illustrious reverence might think 
 it desirable, under these circumstances, to recal 
 your niece, I should therefore have shortly done 
 myself the honom- of wiiting to your reverence, 
 even if the enclosed extraordinary letters had not 
 fallen into my hands. Of com'se, when that oc- 
 curred, I at once saw the propriety of forwarding 
 them to you. As soon as the necessity of institut- 
 ing an inquiry into the conduct of this strangely 
 delinquent Superior became apparent, naturally one 
 of the first steps to take was to intercept her cor- 
 respondence. For a long time no light could be 
 obtained by this means ; for she received no letters. 
 But at last my \^gilance was rewarded by the pos- 
 session of those herewith enclosed. I need not 
 VOL. III. I
 
 114 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 point out to yoiu* reverence the importance of 
 them both as regards the possible antecedents of 
 this dangerous woman, the truly abominable breach 
 of trust of Avhich she has been guilty with regard 
 to your niece, and, lastly, as regards the conduct 
 and \4ews of the illustrious lady the Contessa 
 Stella herself. 
 
 " Without presuming to enter into reflections on 
 this latter part of the subject, I content myself 
 vrith calling your reverence's prudent and expe- 
 rienced attention to the hopes and feelings ex- 
 pressed in the atrociously audacious letters of this 
 man who signs himself Giulio Malatesta; and 
 who, as far as I can gather from the letters them- 
 selves, and from such inquiries as I have been able 
 to make, must be an illegitimate son of the Mar- 
 chese Cesare Malatesta of Fenno. You will ob- 
 serve that this shameless vagabond proposes to 
 present himself at the Ursuline convent here in 
 Montepulciano. Should you think it expedient to 
 obtain an order for his arrest, it might be easily 
 executed on his putting his avowed intention into 
 execution, without any chfliculty or disturbance. 
 All such considerations, however, together mth 
 any others, which the perusal of these infamous 
 letters may suggest to the wisdom and pi-udence of 
 your illustrious reverence, I leave to your high
 
 Stella's return home. 115 
 
 decision ; and pass on mtliout further encroaching 
 on your valuable time, to the honour of subscrib- 
 ing myself, 
 
 "With sentiments of the most distinguished es- 
 teem and respect of yom' illustrious reverence, the 
 most humble and devoted servant, and unworthy 
 brother in Christ, 
 
 "DOMENICO TONDI, 
 
 " Cancel. Dioc. Montis Pul." 
 
 If the 's\Titers of the three letters which thus 
 reached the hands of the Canonico Adalberto had 
 been in\4sibly present when they were read by 
 him, the Very Reverend the Chancellor of the 
 Diocese of Montepulciano would have been the 
 most dissatisfied with the result produced by the 
 reading of them. Giulio's letters to his love and 
 to the Abbess were read ^^dth great attention and 
 considerable interest, which was marked by sundry 
 pauses of meditation over their contents, and here 
 and there a " humph," uttered more in the tone of 
 a man considering his adversai-y's move in a game 
 of chess, than of one excited to anger or even 
 surprise. 
 
 " Well ! " he muttered to himself, when he had 
 come to the end of poor Giulio's letters, " let him 
 find his mother, if he can. Upon the whole, it 
 i2
 
 116 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 would be more likely to put another spoke in his 
 wheel, and lend us a help, than the reverse ! Likely 
 enough that she may have been placed in a convent 
 by the Cardinal. Not unlikely that this Abbess 
 may have some knowledge of her ! But what this 
 old mad woman at Bologna — what is the name 1 — 
 Varani — means by her sealed packet and her 
 journey to France, who can guess? Any way, I 
 don't think she is likely to help my young friend 
 to marry the heiress of the Altamari ! Her son, a 
 Professor at Pisa! That is Avorth taking a note 
 of. Possibly a little pressure on this gentleman, 
 who is so excellent a friend of our young spark, 
 may prove to be useful. Aha ! so they count on 
 our preferring to allow our heiress to marry a 
 vagabond without a sou to seeing the property go 
 to a distant heir ! We shall find the means of dis- 
 sipating that illusion very easily ! And our young 
 Bayard is going to make himself Generalissimo of 
 the revolutionary army, and come to demand his 
 bride when he is such a great man, that the Alta- 
 mari will be only too proud of his alliance ! 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! And ' Italy has not said her last 
 word yet ! ' P^r Dio ! No, my young friend ! 
 That has she not. And if you do not chance to be 
 shot as a rebel taken in arms before your great- 
 ness comes upon you, Avhy, then it will be time 
 enough to think of gyvmg up the game."
 
 Stella's eeturx home. 117 
 
 This was the train of thought produced in the 
 brain of the scheming Canonico by the perusal of 
 Giulio's letters ; but when he finished reading the 
 laboriously AM:itten epistle, the composition of which 
 had cost his provincial brother Canon so much 
 thought and pains, he tossed it aside with a " Pish !" 
 and a muttered " Old fool ! As if I had not known 
 all he can tell me lono; aero ! It would serve him 
 right to send his letter to the Bishop ! Only it 
 would be a sin against the golden rule, ' Never do 
 any man an ill turn, when there is nothing to be 
 got by it ! ' It's just as well, though, that these 
 letters have been intercepted before they reached 
 their destination. And they show that the recal 
 of this wilfid little Contessina has been put off too 
 long already. Oiu* friend Bayard, the renegade 
 King's Generalissimo in 'posse, thinks that her 
 coming to Florence will give him an opportunity of 
 seeing her here, as he is good enough to observe. 
 We shall see!" 
 
 And, so musing, the Canonico Adalberto went off 
 to the Palazzo Altamari to seek an interview with 
 his sister-in-law. It was an earlier hour than that 
 at which the Canon usually made his rare visits at 
 the palazzo ; for he had come immediately after 
 reading his morning letters. He rarely came near 
 the family palazzo at all, save on matters of busi- 
 ness, as in the present instance, or on occasions of
 
 118 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 ceremonious visits, sncli as on New Year's-days, 
 and birthdays, or name-days* rather, and such hke. 
 He was on this occasion sho^^^l into Zenobia's 
 momiufi^-room, where Mademoiselle Zelie shortly 
 came to him, to tell him, A\dth a very low curtsey, 
 and standing just inside the door — for Zelie stood 
 desperately in awe of the Canon, and considered 
 him to be a sort of incarnation of the Inquisition 
 — that the Signora Contessa would have much plea- 
 sm^e in seeing him in her chamber. 
 
 In fact, it was the sacred hour of the " roovellyT 
 
 The Canon glanced at her, as he answered, "• Is 
 the Contessa ill, then, that she does not leave her 
 chamber % " 
 
 He knew all about the " roovellies," as well as all 
 about most other matters pertaining to his sister-in- 
 law; but he had small tolerance for such absm- 
 dities; and but small liking for the French sou- 
 hrette promoted to be a denizen of his ancestral 
 salo7ii. 
 
 " Not ill, your reverence," said poor Zelie, 
 colouring and curtseying again, and wishing her- 
 self anywdiere but where she was — " not precisely 
 ill ! But her ladyship prefers to receive her morn- 
 ing visitors in a toilette de chamhre,^^ continued 
 
 * People in Italy, as in other Catholic countries, make a holiday, 
 not as we do of the anniversary of a birthday, but of the saint's 
 day in the calendar who is the namesake of the individual.
 
 Stella's eetuen home. 119 
 
 Zelie, judiciously moclif^'ing the offensive words, 
 " in bed," by that euphuism ; and endeavoimng 
 still further to propitiate the temble Canon by 
 hastening to add, " such special visitors, at least, as 
 her ladyship is desirous of treating with special 
 distinction." 
 
 " Humph ! " said the priest, vdih a gi'im smile ; 
 ^' has the Contessa any other old women or men 
 with her now in her bedroom ? " 
 
 " Yom* reverence ! " said the little French- 
 woman, greatly shocked : " there are a few of her 
 ladysliip's habitues. The Marchese is there, of 
 coui'se ; and there is the young Marchese Alfonso. 
 I do not know if there are any others." 
 
 "Tell yom' tell the Contessa," said the Canon, 
 
 connecting himself, as he remembered Zelie's present 
 rank in the household, " that I ^^-ish to speak with 
 her on business ; and that I -s^-ill wait here till she 
 
 rises above the horizon to the outer world," 
 
 added the Canon, with a mocking smile ; " I am 
 not in the habit," he continued, as ZeHe turned to 
 the door right glad to escape, " of visiting ladies in 
 their bedi'ooms ; — at least," he added, wdth a smile 
 to himself, when ZeHe had already closed the door 
 behind her, "not when there are others of the 
 party." 
 
 The Canonico Adalberto did not wait many mi- 
 nutes before the Marchese Florimond came to him.
 
 120 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " stimatissimo* Simior Canonico ! " exclaimed 
 the little man, bustling into the room, and coming 
 fonvard with both hands extended to meet the 
 nsitor; "the Contessa is shocked to keep your 
 reverence waiting ! You are early this morning ! 
 It is Sivero heneficio del cielof to see you so well ! 
 The Contessa was recei^H[ng a few friends in her 
 chamber. It is her habit, you know. Qiceste 
 donnel'^X — mth a deprecatory shrug. 
 
 " Upon my word, Signor ^larchese, I am glad 
 it is no worse ! When I heard that the Signora 
 Contessa had her bedroom full of people, Heaven 
 help me, I thought it must be the santissimo,^ and 
 that the poor Contessa was i?i exty^emis. We priests, 
 you know, naturally have om' heads filled with the 
 business of om- trade ! " 
 
 " God forbid ! " exclaimed the Marchese, not a 
 little shocked. " No ! thanks to the Madonna, we 
 are not come to that yet ! " 
 
 " No, no ! not yet ! " answered the Canon, with 
 a malicious emphasis on the words ; " the Signora 
 Contessa, as all Florence knows, is essentially an 
 evergreen ! " 
 
 * " Most esteemed." A common mode of address. 
 
 f " A true blessing of Heaven." A somewhat old-fashioned 
 style of courtesy, which the present generation would deem pro- 
 vincial at least, if not under-bred. 
 
 % " These ladies !" 
 
 § The last sacrament ; at the administration of which, to dying 
 persons, several individuals are generally present.
 
 Stella's ketukn home. 121 
 
 " Hah ! Signer Canonico ! " exclaimed the ad- 
 mirably got-up Marchese, with a shrug that seemed 
 to lift him bodily up out of his boots, and bring 
 his shoulders up to his ears, and his eyebrows up 
 to his wig, " we all have sooner or later to gTow 
 old!" 
 
 " 2Iost men have to do so ! " replied the Canon, 
 with a low bow to the Marchese. " Most men, 
 Signer Marchese, do sooner or later grow old," he 
 repeated, parodpng the famous French preacher, 
 who implied in similar fashion an exemption to the 
 universality of human mortality in f avom' of Louis 
 the Fomteenth ! 
 
 But the Canon might have spared his irony 
 for it was quite thrown away upon the dapper little 
 Marchese, who only made a disclamatory gi'imace 
 in reply, wdiich seemed to express that what the 
 Canon said was veiy true, but that his mode of 
 mentioning it Avas too flattering. 
 
 " I wished to speak with the Contessa this morn- 
 ing about my niece, the Contessina Stella," the 
 Canonico continued ; '' circumstances have arisen 
 which appear to make the convent at Monte- 
 pulciano no longer a desh'able residence for her." 
 
 " Dear me ! The Contessa -vn^II be much grieved 
 to hear it," said the !Marchese ; " unless, indeed," he 
 added, " we might hope that the Contessina Stella's 
 residence in the convent has already produced the 
 effect expected from it."
 
 122 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " I fear me," replied the Canon, " that there is 
 as yet no ground for any such anticipation. The 
 Contessina Stella has, it Avould seem, a strong mil 
 of her own, which can only be made to yield by 
 the conviction that the wills opposed to it are yet 
 stronger." 
 
 , " And what would your reverence propose doing 
 in the first instance ? " asked the Marchese Flori- 
 mond. 
 
 " My notion," said the priest, " would be to bring 
 her home here at once ; to profit by the oppor- 
 tmiity to watch her narrowly, and ascertain whether 
 her com^age has been at all shaken; and, at the 
 same time, never to allow her to lose sight of the 
 fact, that submission is the only means of saving 
 herself from a speedy retm-n to life in a cloister." 
 
 " I am sm-e the Contessa mil feel the Avisdom of 
 deferring to your opinion, SigTior Canonico," re- 
 plied the little man, anxious to avoid having to 
 express any opinion before the Contessa should 
 have mven him his cue. " She w411 be here in a 
 minute or two. If you will allow me, I w^ill go 
 and see whether she is coming." 
 
 And the Marchese escaped accordingly. 
 
 In a very few minutes he came back, accompa- 
 nied by the Contessa Zenobia, who had evidently 
 lost no time in dismissing her gentlemen of the 
 bed-chamber, and preparing herself for the decorous
 
 Stella's return- home. 123 
 
 reception of her formidable ecclesiastical brother- 
 in-law. 
 
 She came into the room -w-ith a jerking, jannty 
 step, half dance, half hobble, exclaiming as soon as 
 she was inside the door : 
 
 " Ah ! hone joiiar^ Monsieur le Canon ! hone 
 jovxxr! Vous etes Men preste ce matin /" said she, in 
 her own peculiar language. 
 
 The Canon could speak French perfectly well, 
 and was often not a little amused at his sister-m- 
 law's lingua franca, as the Contessa's talk often 
 deserv^ed to be called in more senses than one. It 
 was nothing new to him to be addi'essed by her as 
 ^^ Monsieur le Canon^^ though she sometimes varied 
 her translation to " Monsieur le Canonic ;" but he 
 never gave her the pleasm-e of speaking French to. 
 her in return. 
 
 . " Good morning, Signora ! " he said ; " my ex- 
 cuse for distui'bing you so early must be found in 
 the importance of the business on which I have to 
 speak to you." 
 
 " Ah I che cose ! che cose ! * The Marchese here 
 has been telling me ! To think of an Abbess 
 having effected no good in all this time ! She 
 ought to cashiered, per Bacco ! " 
 
 " But the more immediate question for u5, Sig- 
 nora, seems to be, whether it would not be well to 
 * " What things ! What things !"
 
 124 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 bring tlie Contessina Stella home at once, before 
 further mischief — or, indeed, I may say, before any 
 serious mischief has been done ? " 
 
 " What ! bring her here to insult ces braves 
 gargons nos restaurateurs again, and to turn up her 
 nose at the Marchese Alfonso, il poveraccio ! * Per 
 Dio, he will have enough of her when they are 
 married, trust me, Monsieur le Canon, without 
 frightening the poor creature out of his w^its be- 
 forehand. I will tell you what it is, your reve- 
 rence, we shall never bring him up to the scratch, 
 let alone her, if we show them too much of each 
 other ! " 
 
 " Signor Contessa," said the chm'chman, ^' the 
 profound prudence wdiich dictates yom* observa- 
 tions is equalled only by the delicate tact A\dth 
 which they are expressed. But I did not intend 
 to propose that the Contessina should be allowed 
 to share in the brilliant society which you are cele- 
 brated for collecting around you. I would suggest, 
 that, supposing, as we have reason to fear, that the 
 young lady still shows herself obdm-ate, she should 
 live for the short time which must intervene before 
 w^e can find some proper asylum for her, entirely 
 in her ovm. chamber, and an adjoining room, on 
 the second floor of the palace. This arrangement 
 would give me also the opportunity to ^dsit her oc- 
 
 * " The poor devil !"
 
 125 
 
 caslonally, and try whether the counsels and argu- 
 ments I could lay before her might have the effect 
 of brineincT her to reason." 
 
 " I think you're right, Monsieur le Canon ! I 
 give my entire consent. There is nothing like 
 preaching, to tire one's heart out ! If you could 
 stand it yourself — and you might get help for that 
 matter — and would not mind giving her a dose of 
 a couple of hours or so two or tlu'ee times a day, 
 depend upon it she would give in. I am siu'e I 
 should consent to anything, if it was tried upon 
 me ! " added the fascinating, light-hearted little 
 creature, with a shrill laugh. 
 
 " I am fully sensible of your too flattering ap- 
 preciation of my humble powers, Signora ! I shall 
 not fail to do what I can. But we must not expect 
 that all your sex are endowed to an equal extent 
 with yourself ^^Hith intellectual powers amenable to 
 the force of reason." 
 
 " What will be the best plan, Signor Canonico, 
 for brinmnortheContessina home ? " asked the Mar- 
 chese Florimond, wishing to make a diversion, for 
 he had a rather vague perception that the po- 
 lished churchman was laughing at the fair Ze- 
 nobia. 
 
 " I think I shall do well to go and bring her to 
 Florence myself," replied the Canon, changing 
 his tone to a simple business-like manner ; " it may
 
 126 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 be," lie added, " that I may pick up some informa- 
 tion there that may be worth our having." 
 
 " And when woukl you propose making the 
 journey? " rejoined the Marchese. 
 
 " With as Httle loss of time as possible. I am 
 afraid we have been remiss in not taking the step 
 earlier. I should hope to be here with the young 
 lady by next Friday night." 
 
 So it was decided that Stella was to be brought 
 back to Florence, preparatory to being sent off to 
 some new place of confinement and moral torment, 
 if she should still obstinately refuse to }aeld to the 
 mshes of her family. 
 
 It made no part of the Canon Altamari's plan 
 to enter in any way into the causes of complaint 
 which he might have against the Abbess, and still 
 less to meddle with the differences which might 
 exist between her and her ecclesiastical superiors. 
 The latter were supremely rminteresting to him; 
 and as to the former, the Canon was one of those 
 men who expend as little as possible of their ener- 
 gies on the past and irremediable. He was capable 
 of any cruelty or oppression for the pm-pose of 
 compelling another to submit to his will ; but had 
 no strong desire to inflict vengeance on any one for 
 not ha^dnfr done so with reo;ard to a matter which 
 could not influence the futm'e. Bygones were 
 always absolutely bygones with him ! He was an 
 essentially practical man, and habitually turned all
 
 Stella's eeturn home. 127 
 
 his thoughts and all his efforts to the future and 
 the practicable, to the utter neglect of that which 
 was already past, irrevocable, or out of his power. 
 
 The particular t^-pe of character described is a 
 more common one in Italy than among ourselves, 
 and may, perhaps, be especially often met T\qth 
 among the members of the priesthood. 
 
 It was also the pm'pose of the Canon Altamari 
 to allow as little time as might be for any leave- 
 taking between Stella and the Abbess. He hoped, 
 moreover, by the suddenness of his operations at 
 Montepulciano, to escape any interview with Don 
 Domenico Tondi, which he instinctively felt would 
 be supremely disagreeable to him. 
 
 There is nothing a Roman Catholic ecclesiastic, 
 who is much of a gentleman, and very little of a 
 priest, hates more than being brought into rela- 
 tions with a brother ecclesiastic who is very little a 
 gentleman, and very much a priest. 
 
 It was a great and painful shock both to the 
 Abbess and to Stella, when a letter from the Canon 
 Altamari was brought one morning to the former, in- 
 timating that in about an hom^ he should have the 
 honour of waiting on the Superior for the purpose of 
 receivmg his niece from her hands and conducting 
 her to Florence. As it was micertain, the letter 
 stated, whether she would return to Montepulciano, 
 the Canon requested that the hour which would 
 elapse before he should have the pleasure of seeing
 
 128 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 her might be employed in making any preparation for 
 her quitting the convent which might be necessary. 
 It gi'ieved him, the Avriter added, not to have been 
 able to allow the convent and his niece a lono;er 
 notice of her recal; but the necessary arrange- 
 ments for the journey, and his OA\ai many and press- 
 ing avocations, must furnish his excuse. 
 
 It was a great shock, and the parting between 
 the two women who had learned to love each other 
 with all the clinging affection of two loving natm-es, 
 enhanced by their common interest in the same in- 
 dividual, by the possession of a common secret, by 
 mutual sympathy, and the sweet sharing of their 
 sorrows and hopes and fears, by the ungenial envi- 
 ronment which rendered them all in all to each 
 other, was a very bitter one. For the Abbess it 
 was worse even than for Stella. The latter, 
 though she had no reason to hope that the intentions 
 of her family were in any degree changed with 
 regard to her, or to expect any mitigation of the 
 means that would be adopted to compel her sub- 
 mission to those intentions, was at least about to 
 emerge from her cloister-grave into the living world, 
 and the change suggested a whole chapter of possi- 
 bilities. The former, with the newly-awakened and 
 painfully-vibrating consciousness of affections and 
 interests, which had been dead for so many years, 
 was to be left to the utter solitude of heart, which
 
 Stella's return home. 129 
 
 her recent companionship with Stella had taught 
 her once again to feel as a horrible and fearful de- 
 solation. The pang which she had endured when 
 her heart was first rent asunder from all its human 
 ties, had to be undergone anew, and the lethargic 
 toi'pidity of the twenty intervening years to be 
 reached again, athwart a new apprenticeship of 
 suffering. 
 
 There was to be added to all this the minor but 
 not inconsiderable som'ce of sorrow and trouble 
 arising from the sense of isolation, and the con- 
 sciousness that she was an object of dislike and 
 suspicion to the sisterhood. She was not aware of 
 the extent to which this hostility had already pro- 
 ceeded, and could still less imagine that she was 
 the object of an organised system of espionnage, 
 which had been pushed to the extent of intercept- 
 ing her coiTespondence. But it was impossible to 
 avoid being aware that no confidence or friendly 
 feeling existed between herself and the members 
 of the community she was called on to govern. 
 
 The parting, too, between the Abbess and Stella 
 was unalleviated by any of those mitigations which 
 make most partings, save that resulting from death, 
 more tolerable. It was difficult to look forward to 
 any futm-e meeting, and not less so to indulge in 
 the hope of any coiTespondence by letter. With 
 so much between them, respecting which each of 
 
 VOL. III. K
 
 130 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 tliem would long so to hear tidings from the other, 
 with so many common hopes and fears trembling 
 in the balance, the inexorable convent gate which 
 w^as to shut in the one and shut out the other, 
 would be even as the stone at the mouth of the 
 sepulchre between them ! 
 
 But there was no possibility of struggling against 
 the will and fiat of the Canon, which was as the 
 doom of fate to these two helpless women. 
 
 On Friday, the 5th of March, as he had said, 
 the Canon arrived in Florence mth his niece, and 
 brought her safely to the palace in the Via Larga, 
 where she was at once consigned, under the pitying 
 but incorruptible gaolership of Zelie, to her prison, 
 consisting of the two rooms on the second floor, as 
 her uncle had suggested. 
 
 Some little time elapsed before the Canonico 
 Adalberto was able to find a convent in all respects 
 suitable to his views, to which Stella might be again 
 consigned. It will be easily understood that many 
 points had to be considered in making the selection 
 — the nature of the rule, the character of the Su- 
 perior, to a certain degi'ee even that of the sister- 
 hood, the locality, the jm*isdiction, &c. At length, 
 however, the difficulties arising from all these re- 
 quirements were surmounted, and it was announced 
 to Stella, that if she still continued obdurate, she 
 would be sent, with a view of shortly commencing
 
 Stella's return home. 131 
 
 her novitiate, to a convent in the Uttle town of 
 Palazzuolo. The position exactly answered to all 
 the Canon wished, and was selected with the judi- 
 cious skill of one fully aware of the powerful in- 
 fluence exercised by the imagination over the mind, 
 especially of a young girl left in total solitude of 
 the mind and heart. It is hardly possible to con- 
 ceive a more desolate position than that occupied by 
 the little frontier town in question. Situated on 
 the eastern slope of the main chain of the Apen- 
 nine, near the northern frontier of Tuscany, where it 
 confines \^ath the Papal temtoiy, it is lost amid the 
 arid and storm-swept flanks of the mountains, dis- 
 tant alike from any of the larger centres of popu- 
 lation, and from any of the gi'eat lines of commu- 
 nication. Nobody ever " passes through " Palaz- 
 zuolo. None come there, save those very few to 
 whom it is the end and object of their journey. 
 All the circumstances of the place and its sur- 
 roundings are well calculated to work on the 
 imagination of an exile among these dreary hills, 
 and impress the victim with the hopelessness of her 
 position. 
 
 But it w^as, as has been said, some time before 
 this favourable spot was discovered by the Canon, 
 and eventually it was decided that Stella was to be 
 consigned to her new prison on the 1st of June. 
 Her micle did not regret the delay. For, although 
 k2
 
 132 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 he did not piu'pose trying his preaching powers 
 on his niece exactly after the fashion suggested by 
 the Contessa Zenobia, he did think it well to ascer- 
 tain the state of her mind, and see how far it might 
 be possible for his o^vn to influence it. It formed 
 no part of the polished Canon's pm'pose to descend 
 to violent threats or reproaches in his interviews 
 with his niece, and still less to endeavoiu" to move 
 her by hypocritically unctuous appeals to the sanc- 
 tions of duty and religion. His plan was simply 
 to allow the hopelessness of resistance to sink into 
 her mind, to convince her by words dropped here 
 and there \vith apparent carelessness, and by taking 
 the matter for granted, rather than by violent de- 
 clarations, that there was not the smallest possi- 
 bility that any other alternative was before her 
 save obedience or the veil. 
 
 We may be very sm'e that even if he had suc- 
 ceeded in convincing Stella of this, he would have 
 failed in his object. She would have chosen the 
 latter rather than the former alternative. Mar- 
 riage with the Marchese Alfonso! Would not 
 death itself be preferable ! But Stella had a great 
 comfort and support in the declaration of the 
 Abbess, that she could not be made a nmi without 
 her own acceptance of that fate. She had little 
 doubt, however, that she might be doomed to an 
 indefinitely prolonged imprisonment ; and, on the
 
 Stella's return home. 133 
 
 whole, it must be admitted that the period of nearly 
 three months which Stella had to pass in dm'ance 
 and disgrace, varied only by the \asits of her Aunt 
 Zenobia and her uncle, the Canon — of which it is 
 but justice to the Canon to say that those by the 
 lady were by far the more intolerable infliction — 
 w^as a trial of her constancy and com'age by no 
 means less arduous than her convent experiences.
 
 134 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE 3IOIIE. 
 
 While the dull, slow months were drao-Dnntr 
 wearily on with Stella in her prison in the Palazzo 
 of the Via Larga, and bringing her nearer and 
 nearer to the fated first of June, which was to be 
 the limit of her stay in Florence, they had been 
 passing more rapidly and busily with Giulio. 
 
 Not so the first of them, however. For, during 
 nearly the whole of March he had been obliged to 
 await idly in Bologna the daily-expected death of 
 old Marta Varani. She lingered on from day to 
 day, in contradiction to all the previsions of the 
 medical man, for almost a month from the time of 
 the interview that has been described between her 
 and Giulio. He saw her twice in the course of 
 that time, and would have done so oftener, had not
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 135 
 
 the strange and unkindly-natured old woman given 
 him very clearly to miderstand that she preferred 
 being left alone. She was not entirely so, how- 
 ever; for Giulio by chance discovered that she 
 was occasionally visited by one or two of her old 
 political friends. He had asked her at one of 
 these interviews if it would be a comfort to her to 
 have her son summoned from Pisa. But she had 
 said that it was useless ; — that she should be gone 
 before the letter could reach Pisa ; — that she and 
 Pietro had never had much to say to each other, 
 and would have less than ever now ! 
 
 ^' Tell him, when you see him," she said, " what 
 I bade you; — that my last act was to sacrifice a 
 Hfe-long object because I thought that he would 
 wish me to do so. That is all that need pass be- 
 tween him and me ! '' 
 
 Giulio, however, had written from Bologna to 
 the Professor, telling him the condition in which 
 his mother was, and the improbabiHty that he could 
 find her ahve, if, despite of what she had said, he 
 should attempt to come to her. He told him also 
 the strangely mysterious message with which he 
 was charged, and all the histors^ of the still more 
 mysterious packet. And he had received letters 
 from the Professor in return, in which he had 
 declared his inability to throw the smallest light 
 upon any part of the matter. He knew that his
 
 136 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 mother had once hvecl in the south of France, and 
 could only guess that she might have kept up some 
 coiTespondence ^^'ith persons there for political pur- 
 poses. But what bearing this could by any possi- 
 bility have on any part of his friend Malatesta's 
 affairs or interests, he was utterly at a loss to 
 imagine. 
 
 At lencpth the old woman died. And the next 
 two months of the three which Stella had to pass 
 in listening to the passionate scolding of her Amit 
 Zenobia, varied only by the visits, and smooth, 
 poHshed, h'on-like unpassibility of her micle, were 
 much more active ones for Giulio. 
 
 The contents of the packet, the seal of which, as 
 may be easily imagined, he lost no time in break- 
 ing as soon as he was privileged to do so, did not 
 in any wise tempt him to delay the jom-ney mto 
 the south of France which he had been enjomed 
 to make. On the contrar}^, the statement of facts 
 which he found therein made him doubly anxious 
 to be on his road. And when the jomiiey had 
 been prosperously performed, and the information 
 obtained which he was sent to seek, anxious as he 
 was to make his promised visit to Montepulciano, he 
 found himself obliged by the ch'cumstances that 
 had become knoA\'n to him to retm'n immediately 
 to Bologna, and give his attention to certain busi- 
 ness there, which occupied him for several days.
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 137 
 
 At last, after all these delays, lie was able, to- 
 wards the end of May, to hasten to Montepul- 
 ciano ; — only to learn on his anival there that the 
 Superior of the convent of Ursulines had been 
 some weeks previously summoned to Florence. 
 
 HaWng veiy Uttle doubt, from the last letters he 
 had had from Carlo Brancacci, that Stella had 
 also ere this been recalled home, he thought it 
 more pinident to risk no inquiry about her, but 
 once again set out Avith as little delay as possible 
 for Florence. There his first object was to see 
 Carlo Brancacci, which he hoped to do on the 
 morning of his amval. For, ha\dng pushed on 
 from Montepidciano in time to reach Siena before 
 the diligence from Kome passed through, about 
 nightfall, on its northern jom-ney, his plan was, 
 by travelling all night, as the diligence in those 
 days did between Siena and Florence, to reach the 
 latter city early in the morning. 
 
 The diligence was due in Florence at five o'clock 
 A.M. ; and as it had been a lovely moonlight night, 
 and the excellent road was in the best possible 
 condition, and the journey had been in all respects 
 a prosperous one, the vehicle managed to reach 
 the Porta Roman a by six, and was deemed by all 
 parties concerned, including the boastful con- 
 ductor, to have achieved an admirable amount of 
 punctuahty.
 
 138 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Coni e gent'd 
 
 La notte a mezzo April I * 
 
 says the Italian libretto. And though, as the 
 seasons now are in Tuscany, it might require a 
 considerable dose of romance to make any one, 
 save an expectant lover, find it charming to lounge 
 at midnight suh Dio exactly at that season, it was 
 some six weeks later in the year at the time of 
 Giulio's journey, and the nights might then, in- 
 deed, be said to be delightful ! He had shared the 
 '^banquette'' on the top of the carnage with the 
 conductor, and had, in truth, enjoyed his day- 
 break descent from the Chianti hills too much to 
 regret the extra hour, even if it ever entered into the 
 head of an Itahan to dream of being discontented 
 at such a circmnstance ! 
 
 Giuho had much in his mind which disposed 
 him not to be discontented with any of the things 
 or circumstances around him. The precise nature 
 of the facts of which he had recently become 
 aware mil be more conveniently, for the pui'poses 
 of narration, communicated to the reader in a 
 f utm'e chapter ; but it may be stated, in the mean 
 time, that they were of such a kind as, despite the 
 hitherto unsuccessful search after his mother, and 
 despite the difficulties which interposed themselves 
 between him and Stella, sent him to Florence in a 
 
 * How charming is the night in the middle of April.
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 139 
 
 happier and more hopeful state of mind than had 
 ever yet been his since that memorable first day of 
 Lent on which he had last quitted it, now three 
 years ago. There lay before him much in that 
 beautiful city towards which he was descending 
 that was fraught with anxiety; but it was a 
 hopeful anxiety, which partook more of the nature 
 of eagerness than of fear. 
 
 The view of the city from the hills, crossed by 
 the old Roman road, is a charming one, as, indeed, 
 every approach to the City of Flowers from the 
 surrounding hills must be. But it is not one of 
 the most beautiful, or at least not one of the most 
 perfect views of the Val d'Amo, and the fan' city in 
 the midst of it. In vain, as the principal of the 
 monumental edifices of the city opened on his view, 
 did Giulio endeavom' to make out the long line of 
 the Via Larga, and to fancy the spot in it where 
 the Palazzo Altamari contained the treasure that 
 made life bright and valuable to him. Some- 
 where — in some sacred spot beneath that laby- 
 rinth of grey-red roofs, now being lit up and 
 gilded into picturesque beauty by the rising sun — 
 was sleeping, he trusted, calmly and securely, if 
 not quite happily sleeping, his beloved one ! 
 Dreaming — of what? That her latest waking 
 thoughts and her prayers had been of him and for 
 him, he was well assured. Did any mysterious in-
 
 140 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 fluence of affinity warn her in her di'eams of his 
 approach near and nearer to her? Were, even 
 now, those morning ch'eams, that come true, it is 
 said, warning her of his coming, and of the possi- 
 bilities which the tidings he was bringing with him 
 would open before them ? 
 
 The diligence, as has been said, was deemed by 
 all parties concerned to have done wonders in that 
 it had arrived at the Porta Romana at six a.m., only 
 one hour after the time it ought to have reached 
 the end of its jom^ney. But to have reached the 
 city gate was a very different thing from this, as 
 all continental travellers by diligence, in wdiat may 
 ah'eady happily be called the olden times, know 
 by sufficiently disagreeable reminiscences. 
 
 Having succeeded in bringing the huge machine 
 up to the gateway in a sharp trot, commenced two or 
 three hundred yards off, with an amount of exertion, 
 and bustle, and noise, which seemed to indicate that 
 every instant was of the last importance, and pulled 
 up their horses beneath the sombre old arch, imder 
 which so long a procession of monarchs, popes, 
 cardinals, warriors, anuies, statesmen, ambassadors, 
 spies, prisoners, and other notabilities have passed 
 dm'ing the last five hundred years, the postilions 
 dismounted from their horses, and proceeded to 
 light then* cigars preparatory to a lounging chat 
 with the loiterers about the gate, in a manner which
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 141 
 
 indicated plainly enough that the care and business 
 of life were off their minds for some time to come. 
 The conductor/on the contrary, roused himself to a 
 state of intense activity and bustle. For the terrible 
 ordeal of the octroi was to be passed. All articles 
 of consumption, meat, bread, butter, wine, oil, &c., 
 are taxed on entering ^\dthin the city wall. And 
 who could say that some infinitesimal quantity of 
 some one of these articles, — even an entire bottle 
 of wine possibly, — might not lurk in the profun- 
 dities of some traveller's trunk, and the Grand- 
 Ducal revenues be thus defrauded of some fraction 
 of a penny ! Therefore the entire laboriously built- 
 up arrangement of the mountain of baggage and 
 goods on the roof has to be laboriously midone, 
 and the entire component parts, therefore, scattered 
 about the pavement. It is true, that any such ex- 
 amination of the heterogeneous assemblage of pack- 
 ages as would really serv^e to ascertain that no 
 specimen of the articles sought for was hidden 
 within them, would probably occupy the entire 
 day ; — that no such examination was attempted ; 
 — that the officials contented themselves in most 
 instances with opening the various trunks and 
 closing them again, so that no object of any 
 sort was attained by the process, save a certain 
 amount of injury to the articles, a certain amount 
 of torment to their proprietors, and the delay of
 
 142 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 an hour added to the long and tedious journey. 
 Still there were advantages in the institution that 
 were not to be despised by a sage and paternal go- 
 vernment. In the first place, a considerable num- 
 ber of officials had to be maintained at each gate 
 of the city for the management of the operation ; 
 and thus the number of persons interested in the 
 maintenance of the government was increased; 
 and, in the second place, all travelling was discoun- 
 tenanced and rendered difficult and disagreeable; 
 — a consideration never lost sight of by rulers, who 
 deem, not unreasonably, that the more nearly their 
 people can be induced to remain in the condition 
 of adscripti glehce, the safer and better established 
 is their rule. 
 
 Giulio had mth him but a valise, which he could 
 with the greatest ease have taken in his hand, and 
 made the best of his way at once to his inn, lea\'ing 
 his more impeded fellow-travellers to endui'e the 
 delay with what patience they might. But he was 
 an Italian, and far too well broken in to Italian 
 ways and rules to think of attempting anything of 
 the sort. No such escape from the troubles of the 
 gate would have been permitted. Ha\4ng cast in 
 his lot with the diligence, it was imperative to 
 partake its fortunes even to the end. And that 
 end was not attained at the office close to the 
 Piazza Santa Trinita, in the centre of the town, till 
 half -past seven. And it took Giulio about another
 
 GIULIO IX FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 143 
 
 horn* before he had found quarters in one of the 
 old-fashioned inns behind the Palazzo Vecchio ; 
 and having changed his dress, and got a cup of 
 coffee at a neighbouring cafe, set forth in search 
 of liis fiiend Brancacci. 
 
 It was about half-past eight, therefore, when he 
 passed through the Piazza della Signoria — or the 
 Piazza del Gran-Duca, as it w^as called in those 
 days — on his w^ay towards the Via Larga. He 
 thought, as he crossed that centre and heart of 
 Florence, that there was a certain air of something 
 more than usual being about to happen in the city. 
 There seemed to be more people astir than was 
 usually the case, save on a holiday. And the day 
 of his arrival, the 29th of May, was not any holi- 
 day, that he was aware of. There was that inde- 
 scribable appearance of somewhat out of the train 
 of their every-day thoughts and occupations being 
 in the minds of the people, which always may be 
 observed in anyto\Nai where some unusual event or 
 solemnity is in hand. And Giulio was looking 
 round him, as he was passing out at that comer of 
 the great square at which the Via dei Calzainoli 
 opens, in search of some one of whom he might 
 ask the meaning of this imwonted movement, when 
 whom should he see comino; towards him across 
 the front of the Post-office from the Via Vac- 
 chereccia, at the other comer of the Piazza, but 
 Rinaldo Palmieri,
 
 144 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 They both caught sight of each other at the 
 same moment, and, running forward, met beneath 
 that beethng brow of the old Tetto dei Pisani, — 
 that roof which the Florentines of old compelled 
 their Pisan captives to build, and which now shelters 
 their descendants while they are asking for their 
 letters at the post-office. 
 
 " AVliat, Giiilio in Florence !" 
 
 " Rinaldo ! What luck to meet you !" 
 
 " How long have you been here ? " 
 
 " Just amved, of com'se ! Not an horn' ago ! 
 Would you not liave seen me othenvise, my dear 
 fellow!" 
 
 '^ And where have you been ? What have you 
 been doing ? Where do you come from ? What 
 brings you to Florence ? But of course you have 
 come for to-day. And you have done well ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? But, first, how is your 
 wife? And what news of the Professor?" 
 
 " All well ! thanks ! The Professor is in Flo- 
 rence. You did not think the dear old fellow 
 would miss the day, did you ? " 
 
 " Miss what day ? I saw there was something 
 in the wind ; but I have no idea what it is all 
 about!" 
 
 " What !" cried Rinaldo, looking at him ^^dth the 
 most unfeigned astonishment, " you don't mean it ! 
 
 You don't mean to say that you don't know 
 
 Pooh ! I can't believe it !"
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 145 
 
 " Believe what ? I have not the least notion 
 of what you are talking about ! Eemember that 
 I am only half an hour old in Florence." 
 
 " But I took it for granted that you had come 
 on purpose ! Why, man alive ! is it not the 29th 
 of May ? Have yoii^ of all the people in the world, 
 forgotten all about Curtatone?" 
 
 " No, davvero!^^* But I had not thought of 
 this day being the anniversaiy of it !" 
 
 " And you reach Florence this morning by mere 
 chance ! hella ! " f 
 
 " And all this stii' in the streets is about that !" 
 
 " AltroIX I should think there was a stir too! 
 But whither were you bound when we met ? " 
 
 " To the Via Larga, to find Brancacci. I hope 
 he is in Florence ! " 
 
 " Yes ! He is here. But you can't go to the 
 Via Larga now ! There is other work cut out for 
 you this morning ! " 
 
 " What, the anniversary ? What is to take 
 place?" 
 
 " Ay ! that is the question ! What is to take 
 place?" returned Kinaldo, changing his tone to 
 one of concentrated earnestness. " That is what 
 
 * "In truth." 
 
 t A common exclamation, nearly equivalent to ** Only to think 
 of that !" 
 
 X "Ay! and more than that!" 
 YOL. III. L
 
 146 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 we shall see, Giulio mio I You must come with 
 me now to Santa Croce. Finding Brancacci, or 
 any other business^ let it be what it may, must 
 come after that. Come along ! I will tell you 
 how things are as we go. We shall find Francesca 
 and the Professor there." 
 
 So, hooking his arm within that of Giulio, he 
 led him off in the direction of the chm'ch of Santa 
 Croce, towards which, as they neared that part of 
 the city, it became evident that the tide of people 
 was strongly setting. For more than one feeling 
 was leading the Florentines on this, the third anni- 
 versary of the battles of Curtatone and Montanara, 
 to the chm'ch, in which the names of those who 
 fell on that day had been commemorated. 
 
 The hopes" of Italy had sadly fallen since that 
 time. The Carnival was over. The high and 
 serene masquers had pulled off then' Phrygian caps, 
 and other such disguisements ; and havmg thus 
 changed theii' mood, insisted that their peoples 
 should follow their lead, forget their mumming, 
 and fall back into the old ruts and tramways. An 
 Austrian garrison was in occupation of Florence, 
 at the invitation of that Grand-Duke who had 
 sent out the Tuscan volunteers to fight against the 
 Austrians in Lombardy three short years ago! 
 Only three short years ! But the Grand-Duke had 
 in that time seen the error of his ways during that 
 short period of carnival madness. His repentance
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 147 
 
 was sincere ; and Austria had forgiven him. But 
 he did not hke to be reminded of the folhes of 
 which he had repented. Nobody does like it. If 
 the Tuscan lads, who had left their lives on the 
 battle-fields of Lombardy, had taken the liberahs- 
 ing mood of then' paternal sovereign so much in 
 earnest, so much the worse for them. In any case, 
 all that chapter of incidents had fjetter be forgotten 
 now. It is in ill taste, unfashionable, and very dis- 
 pleasing to paternal rulers to say or do anything 
 that can recal the memory of all that already 
 buried and forgotten past. With our Austrian 
 friends here in Florence too I Nothing could be 
 so 'Hnconv enable /" 
 
 But the fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and 
 beloved ones of the youths, who 'had left their 
 young lives on those not-to-be-mentioned battle- 
 fields, did not feel quite in miison with the courtly 
 tone of sentiment on this subject. Immediately after 
 that sad but glorious campaigi:i, before Curtatone 
 and Montanara were tabooed names in Florence, a 
 couple of bronze tablets, recording the names and 
 ages of the slain in those two battles, had been put 
 up in Santa Croce ; — the Tuscan Westminster 
 Abbey. And on the anniversary of the battle, the 
 families and friends of these lost ones had caused 
 a requiem to be celebrated in memory of them, 
 and of their deeds, and had brought chaplets and 
 l2
 
 148 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 flowers to lay before the bronze record, as a testi- 
 mony tliat the memory of tlie dead was yet green 
 in the hearts of those who had loved them. 
 
 In 1849, this commemoration of what it would 
 fain forget, was distasteful to the paternal govern- 
 ment. In 1850, it was yet more offensive. And 
 now, in 1851, these uncourtly mom'ners, with their 
 inopportune reminiscences, were pm'posing to repeat 
 the offence ! Totally regardless of the feelings of 
 their Grand-Duke, surrounded by a circle of Aus- 
 trian marshals and generals, yqt at the same time 
 compelled to endui'e under his nose the commemo- 
 ration of those whom he had sent out to fight 
 against those marshals and generals, they per- 
 sisted in refusing to forget ! Incapable as they 
 were of any com'tly delicacy of feeling, these 
 burgher mom'ners even went to the length of 
 sending an invitation to the Austrian commander- 
 in-chief to be present at their celebration. And 
 he, being more soldier than courtier, as it would 
 seem, wrote back to say that, though prevented by 
 political considerations from attending the cere- 
 mony in question, he should be with them in heart, 
 and was glad to have the opportunity of expressing 
 the high respect and admiration which every soldier 
 must feel for the gallant youths who had shown 
 themselves such worthy foemen. 
 
 If onlv the Austrian commander could have
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 149 
 
 had the tact to use his supreme anthority to forbid 
 any such commemoration ! But since he took it 
 in the tone he did, the paternal government could 
 scarcely do so I It was supremely unpleasant to a 
 paternal ruler ! 
 
 And thus it came to pass, that now on that 
 beautiful May morning, the question was, as 
 Rinaldo had said to Giulio, " what would take 
 place?" Would the government venture on 
 shutting up the church ? Would it content itself 
 with ordering the priests to celebrate no service? 
 Would it abstain from any interference, and bear 
 its mortification in silence, as best it might ? 
 
 So Florence was astir, and uneasy AA^th expecta- 
 tion and doubt. The patriots of 1848, those who 
 had lost relatives on that day in the first line, were 
 thronging towards the chm'ch; the few partisans 
 of the com't w^ere biting their nails in sulky and 
 uneasy groups at street corners, the merely cm'ious 
 crowd of quidnuncs was hovering about the squares 
 in timid doubt, and the Austrian officers were 
 clanking their swords up and down the pavement, 
 very indifferent to all that the children they were 
 sent to keep in order w^ere making such a fuss 
 about, but ready to compel them to be orderly by 
 a very rough and ready process, in case their quar- 
 relling should go to the extent of a breach of the 
 peace.
 
 150 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 All this state of things Eiiialdo explained rapidly 
 to Giulio as tliey were walking from the Piazza 
 della Signoria to the Piazza di Santa Croce ; to the 
 exceeding indignation of the latter. His impres- 
 sion, however, was that the government would take 
 no steps to prevent the commemoration. 
 
 '^ They cannot do it, caro mio ! It is impossible. 
 That move of inviting the Austrian commandant 
 was admirably thought of. He must be a fellow 
 with a soldier's heart in him.* And the style of 
 his answer must make it impossible for them to 
 interfere." 
 
 " I trust it may be so ! We shall soon see ! But 
 I have not asked you anything about yom'self yet." 
 
 "And I have so much to teU, that there is no 
 time for it now ! It must keep till after the cere- 
 mony. You shall then come mth me to look for 
 Brancacci. I have some things to tell you that 
 wdll make you stare. I am in Fortmie's good books 
 at last, for a wonder, it would seem ! " 
 
 * The general in question was Prince Frederick of Lichtenstein. 
 The letter he sent in return to the in\'itation is so creditable to all 
 parties concerned, save the Grand-Ducal government, and it places 
 the conduct of the latter in so just and strong a light, that I have 
 thought it well to give it entire at the end of the chapter. For the 
 sake of historical accuracy, it may be mentioned, though the fact 
 makes no diflference to any appreciation of the circumstances, that 
 Ae letter was written on occasion of the commemoration of 1850 ; 
 whereas the scene related in the text occurred, as there represented, 
 in 1851.
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 151 
 
 " Per Bacco ! I have considered you so for some 
 time past, Signer Giulio, on more counts than one ! 
 You can't have it all your own way, and all at once, 
 you know ! But I want to hear your new good 
 news. Can't you out with it at once ? " 
 
 " No, by no means ! there is far too much of it ! 
 And I want to attend to the business in hand now. 
 By Jove ! what a crowd !" he exclaimed, as at that 
 moment they came out from one of the narrow 
 streets into the Piazza of Santa Croce. " The 
 Florentines are doing us Cmtatone boys the honour 
 of making a great affair of our anniversary. AVliy, 
 half the town is on foot !" 
 
 In fact, the whole of the large piazza before the 
 western front of the venerable chm^ch seemed to 
 be full of people. A Florentine crowd is always 
 quiet and orderly ; but on the present occasion they 
 appeared to be even more so than usual ; for a 
 certain air of hushed quietude and almost of depres- 
 sion seemed to weigh upon the multitude, which 
 indicated very sensibly that the great majonty of 
 those present were under the influence of the 
 spii'it of the occasion which called them together. 
 Veiy many were in mom^ning gannents. A stil 
 greater number bore about them some token of 
 mourning in some part of their dress. There was 
 an unusually large proportion of women among 
 those assembled ; and here and there among the
 
 152 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 crowd might be observed individuals, mostly women, 
 with chaplets of evergreens or of flowers in their 
 hands. The grand old church — grand rather from 
 the noble associations and reminiscences connected 
 with it, than from any real architectural grandeur, 
 save that of vast size — did not then possess the 
 handsome marble facade which now, with perhaps 
 somewhat too garish a smartness, decks the time- 
 honom'ed building. The rough, unfinished brick 
 front, which had been tolerated by so many gene- 
 rations of Florentines, that, despite its ugliness, 
 they had almost come to love its hoary and homely 
 boldness better than any completion, however per- 
 fect, of the original design, still looked down upon 
 the large open space, and on the quaint and varied 
 architecture of the old houses, which form its three 
 other sides, as it used to do in the old days when in 
 times of civic revel wild beasts were " hunted," as 
 the old chroniclers have it, or baited rather, as we 
 should call it, on this piazza. 
 
 The whole of one end of the oblong space is 
 occupied by this mde front- of the great church — 
 wider than even that of the duomo. And the 
 three huge doors in it, which were all open, and 
 through all of which the multitude was streaming 
 into the enormous interior of the chm'ch, seemed 
 to swallow up the thousands into the cavernous 
 gloom within, while no appreciable progress was 
 being made towards fiUing it.
 
 GIULIO IX FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 153 
 
 " The cliurch is open, at all events ! " said 
 Giulio, as the two young men made their way up 
 the middle of the piazza, towards the great door. 
 " I think you ^\\\\ find that the government have 
 no mtention of meddling vdth. you." 
 
 " I really begin to hope so too/' returned Ki- 
 naldo. ^' I see no signs of either soldiers or police. 
 And, m tinith, when one comes to consider the 
 thing in its entu'ety, it does seem almost too 
 outrageous that any government on earth should 
 seek to prevent the relatives and friends of those 
 who have fallen in its service from commemo- 
 rating them ! " 
 
 " It does so, indeed. Where are you to find the 
 Professor ? " 
 
 " He, and my wife vdi\\ him, were to be at the 
 entrance of the cloister on the right-hand side of the 
 church front. They A\ill be there by this time." 
 
 And, in fact, in front of the cloister door, the 
 two friends, when they had pushed a little farther 
 through the crowd in that direction, descried the 
 Professor and his sister waiting, and anxiously 
 w^atching the aspect of the rapidly-thickening 
 crowd. Francesca had a large and elaborate gar- 
 lap^ 'f bay mingled with white roses, hanging on 
 '^er arm, an intended tribute to the memoiy of En- 
 rico, whose name on the bronze tablets indicated 
 him as ha\ing been the youngest of the youthful 
 band of martyrs at Curtatone and Montanara.
 
 154 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Had Giulio seen Francesca alone, as she stood 
 there with the wreath in her hand, he would pro- 
 bably have failed to recognise her, so wholly diffe- 
 rent was the figm^e of the Florentine sposa from 
 that of the volunteer from whom he had parted at 
 Cmlatone. It is true that he had kno^\^l her first, 
 and for a longer time, in the proper habiliments of 
 her sex at Pisa. But the few short months of the 
 Lombard campaign had been filled with events 
 of a kind that leave so deep a mark in the 
 memory, and the impressions of that memorable 
 time so effectually obliterated those of the days 
 before it, that for Giulio the idea of the Profes- 
 sor's sister was that of the handsome volmiteer 
 soldier, rather than of the pretty girl of the lone 
 house in the fields of Pisa. Francesca, moreover, 
 was no longer the same in appearance as she had 
 been then. Marriage makes a notable and subtle 
 difference in the maniere d'etre of a woman in 
 every part of the world, but nowhere more so than 
 in Italy, where the change from the chrysaHs state 
 of girlhood to the fvill-fledged dignity of matron- 
 hood — ^the right to the complimentarily-used title 
 of sposa — is a very marked one. 
 
 Francesca, however, would have instantly recog- 
 nised Malatesta, even if he had not been ^vith her 
 husband. Not that the three years which had passed 
 since they had seen each other had made no diffe- 
 rence in him. Far from it. The bearing of the
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 155 
 
 captain of Lancers in the service of his Majesty 
 the King of Sardinia was sufficiently different 
 from that of the volunteer student. But in cos- 
 tume Giiilio looked much the same as she had 
 knowTi him in old days at Pisa. For it must not 
 be imagined that he was travelling either in the 
 Papal dominions or in those of the Grand-Duke 
 of Tuscany in the uniform of the Piedmontese 
 ser\4ce. That, in the change which had come over 
 the dream of Italy since 1848, would have been 
 quite out of the question. 
 
 So Francesca, sharply nudging the Professor's 
 elbow to call home his mts, which were roaming 
 among the throng as it was streaming past them 
 into the church, stepped forwards to meet Kinaldo 
 and his companion as they came up. 
 
 " Yes ! you may well jump ! " said her husband. 
 " There was nothing else at the post ! But there I 
 found this gentleman, for all the world as if he 
 had arrived, addressed, ^ To be left till caUed for ; 
 this side uppermost ! ' Think of his having come 
 to Florence this morning — this morning, of all the 
 mornings in the year ; — and he of all men in the 
 world — m total oblivion and unconsciousness of 
 what day it is, and asking innocently what all 
 the movement in the streets is about ! Pare im- 
 possibile!*^^ 
 
 " The case is not quite so bad as he makes it out, 
 * '* It seems impossible!" a very common expression of surprise.
 
 156 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Signora Francesca/' said Giulio, laughing, and cor- 
 dially shaking hands first with her and then with the 
 Professor; '^ I have not forgotten Cui'tatone, friends, 
 nor has Italy ! Per Dio, Kb I and so these gentry 
 will find out one of these days," nodding, as he spoke, 
 at a couple of white-coated Austrian soldiers who 
 strolled lazily past them, gazing wonderingly and 
 amusedly at the crowd. " No ! my f orgetf ulness 
 was limited to the fact that to-day w^as the — for us, 
 dear friends — ever sacred 29th of May. You see, 
 I have been scom'ing the country in all du'ections 
 on business of my own, and I have a pretty big 
 budget full to tell you all as soon as we have a 
 quiet horn', and I came here selfishly thinking of no 
 affairs but my own ; and, with better good fortune 
 than I deserve, come in for to-day's celebration." 
 
 " No ! I do not think that you wdll be one of the 
 first to forget Cmtatone, Signor Capitano ! " said 
 Francesca, glancing up with a quiver on her lip 
 and a meaning look into Malatesta's face. '^ For 
 one day," she added, mth a sad smile, " you must 
 be Signor Caporale once again ! Ah I how all 
 the incidents of that day come back to me in talk- 
 ing to you, Signor Giulio ! " she continued, press- 
 ing her hands over her eyes as she spoke. 
 
 Malatesta answered her only by putting out his 
 hand, and a second time exchanging a friendly 
 grasp. 
 
 " I was thankful to you, Signor Giulio, for your
 
 GIULIO IX FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 157 
 
 letters from Bologiia," said the Professor ; " it was 
 a comfort to me to know that yon were there. Po- 
 vera madre ! She, too, did her part for onr Italy !" 
 
 " We shall have mnch to talk over together, dear 
 old friend ! " answered Giulio. " I owe you and 
 La Signora Yarani, huon anima sua* more than 
 you think for!" 
 
 " You will retmii with us after the ceremony in 
 the church, will you not, Signor Capitano ?" said 
 Francesca, " we have all so much to say to each 
 other ! You know, of course, that La Contessina 
 is in Florence ? " she added, in an under tone, with 
 a quick look up into his face. 
 
 He answered her by a silent nod, while Rinaldo 
 said : 
 
 ^' Of com'se you will retm'n with us, Signor 
 Giulio. My mother ^^411 be so glad to see you. 
 She has not forgotten, poor soul, that she ov/ed it 
 to you that she had one son's life to give for Italy." 
 
 " Of com'se I should have hiuTied to the house 
 I remember so well, even if I had not fallen in 
 with you all so fortunately. I looked up at it as I 
 passed in the diligence this morning; and I will 
 come in in the course of the afternoon. But my 
 first business after the ceremony must be to find out 
 Brancacci, as I was on my way to do when I met 
 Rinaldo." 
 
 * Literally, " her good soul ;" a common mode of parlance in 
 mentioning persons who have died.
 
 158 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " You have not told us yet even, whence you 
 now come/' said Kinaldo. " You passed before 
 my mother's window coming in through the Porta 
 Romana ? Then you are not now from Bologna ? " 
 
 " No ! I came last from Montepulciano. But, 
 as I said, I must keep my story till after the cere- 
 mony, for it is a long one," replied Malatesta. 
 
 " At least tell us in one word whether you have 
 succeeded in your search ? " asked the Professor. 
 " We know that yom* journey to Montepulciano 
 must have been a fruitless one." 
 
 " Yes ; alas ! my trip to Montepulciano has 
 availed me nothing. And I have not been suc- 
 cessful in my search as yet. But I have found 
 what I was not looking for, and little dreamed of 
 finding," replied Malatesta, looking round from 
 one to the other of his three friends. " But po- 
 sitively," he added, laughing, " you shall not tempt 
 me to open my budget of news till I have time to 
 empty it comfortably ! Is it not time for us to go 
 into the church ? The crowd are all pouring in ! " 
 
 " Yes ! come ! let us go in !" said Rinaldo. 
 " It must be nearly the hour for the beginning of 
 the service. And, per Bacco ! the old chm'ch must 
 be nearly full by this time ! " 
 
 Nevertheless, it was not the case that all the 
 crowd had entered the chmxh, though a continuous 
 stream had been passing in while the above conver- 
 sation had been going on. For as the four friends
 
 GIULIO IN FLORENCE ONCE MORE. 159 
 
 went up the steps of the church, to reach the door 
 of the southern side-aisle, they looked back on the 
 large piazza, and saw that it still seemed nearly 
 full of people. Most of these, however, were no 
 doubt only idlers, cbawn thither by cuiiosity to see 
 whether the government would, as had been thought 
 likely, interfere in any way to stop the celebration 
 of the anniversar}\ Those more really interested 
 in it, were no doubt pretty well all by this time in 
 the church. And when the little party, who had 
 not before been together since the day they had 
 separated on the field of Curtatone, passed into the 
 vast building, it seemed closely filled. 
 
 Pkince Lichtesstedj's Letter to General de Laugier. 
 " I should have been extremely sorry if, out of consideration 
 for us, you had neglected to celebrate the religious ceremony com- 
 memorative of those who fought and died bravely. The Tuscan 
 troops did their duty in fighting. They obeyed the orders of their 
 sovereign. The sole reproach we can make to them is, that they 
 fought far better than we should have wished. If I do not take the 
 liberty of assisting at the mass, it is in order to avoid, as much as 
 I can, the chance of exciting the susceptibilities of such as have the 
 name of honour on their lips but not in their heart. For, having 
 had occasion to admire the bravery of our adversaries on the 29th 
 of May, I should have esteemed myself honoured, as a soldier, by 
 assisting at it. I abstain from it solely in order not to give an op- 
 portunity to fools to make it a cause of accusation against you, by 
 attributing to it a cause very different from the true soldierly feel- 
 ing which would induce me to do so. Pray accept on the vigil of 
 the anniversary of the day on which I had the honour first to know 
 you, the assurance of the high esteem in which I hold you. 
 
 " Lichtenstein."
 
 160 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE REQUIEM IN SANTA CROCE. 
 
 The Florentine people for many generations 
 have held the chui'ch of Santa Croce in especial 
 affection ; — affection rather than veneration^ which 
 would be the word in most cases more appropriate 
 to describe that special feeling attached to certain 
 localities, which the Roman Catholic religion so 
 much encourages. In every Roman Catholic city, 
 — and almost in every village, — there are churches, 
 or chapels, or oratories, or altars, to which a special 
 and exceptional degree of holiness and sanctity are 
 supposed to appertain, and which are therefore 
 regarded with a special and exceptional degree of 
 reverence. But this has no connexion with the sen- 
 timent with which the Florentine citizen regards 
 Santa Croce. Florence is not, and never was, a
 
 THE EEQUIEM IN SANTA CROCE. 161 
 
 ver\' religious city. Even in the " ages of faith," 
 and of ecclesiastical ascendancy, that " most repub- 
 lican of republics" was always ready to subordinate 
 ecclesiastical and religious considerations to those 
 of ci^dl expediency and patriotism, in a manner that 
 was generally unkno-^ii in those centuries. The 
 church of Santa Croce, on the other hand, makes 
 no especial claim to any exceptional sanctity. Of 
 covu'se it has the usual decent supply of sacred 
 relics in sufficient quantity for the due performance 
 of rehgious observances. But it possesses none of 
 those extra holy articles or reminiscences, which 
 constitute the reputation and the wealth of so many 
 other fanes of far less celebrity. 
 
 The sentiment ^^^th which the Florentine re- 
 gards Santa Croce, is a ci^'il rather than a religious 
 sentiment. And the presence beneath its enormous 
 roof, which is most influentially active in his heart 
 and mind, is less that which is s}Tnbolised by the 
 host in its ostensory on the altar, than that of the 
 mighty memories of those whose dust reposes be- 
 neath the flagstones. It is, as it has often been 
 called, the Westminster Abbey of Florence. And 
 the feeling with w^hich an ordinaiy Florentine 
 citizen enters it, is stronger than that experienced 
 by an ordinai'\' Enjrlishman on enterinoj West- 
 minster Abbey, in proportion to the comparative 
 fnnallness of the Qommunity affected by it, and the 
 
 VOL. III. M
 
 162 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 consequently greater personal share wliicli every 
 man has in the common possession. 
 
 There is little or nothing of the material beanty, 
 which Westminster Abbey possesses in so eminent 
 a degree, at Santa Croce. No other sentiment 
 competes in the mind of him, who passes from the 
 external southern sunshine into the cavern-like 
 gloom of its huge nave, with that of reverence for 
 the mighty dead aromid. There are a few rich 
 painted windows in the chancel and transepts, there 
 are a few — a very few — fragments of mediaeval 
 art ; but, on the whole, the chiu'ch of Santa Croce 
 is very singularly poor in aught of beautiful or of 
 artistic interest. The monumental scidptiu'e is 
 . almost all below criticism. The cenotaph,, which 
 vainly strives, by accumulation of tons of marble, 
 to obliterate the memory^ of the fact that Dante's 
 dust does not sleep below, would be a disgrace to 
 Kensal Green, and if transf eiTed to St. Paul's would 
 elevate by contrast the sculpture there to high art ! 
 The naked rafters of the wholly unomamented 
 roof give a barn-like appearance to the entire 
 edifice. There is, in truth, no element of beauty or 
 grandeur, save vast size. Yet even the stranger 
 from the northern side of the Alps walks the in- 
 scribed flagstones of Santa Croce A\'ith bated 
 breath, and a consciousness of awed reverence, 
 which he has rarely before experienced. The spell
 
 THE REQUIEM IX SAXTA CROCE. ,163 
 
 of miglity names is on him ; and the air he is 
 breathing seems laden ydih the most precious and 
 imperishable memories of the past. 
 
 If such be the impression made upon a stranger, 
 it mil be readily understood that it is difficult to 
 exacpcrerate the feeling mth which the Florentine 
 regards Santa Croce. 
 
 Almost the whole of the great length of the 
 chm-ch is occupied by the enormous nave and side- 
 aisles. The transept is large ; but it crosses the 
 nave quite at the eastern end of it, leaving the 
 choir and chancel disproportionately small and in- 
 significant. It is as if the preponderance of the 
 civil element, which has been described as prevailing 
 in the sentiment inspired by the church, entered 
 also into the material construction of it. The di- 
 \T[sion of the building specially belonging to and 
 affected to the uses of the clergy is very small, and 
 that apportioned to the people disproportionately 
 large. On either side of the chancel are other 
 chapels opening off the transept almost as large as 
 the chancel itself. At the extremity of the southern 
 transept there is a chapel on a raised floor, reached 
 by flights of steps, the space beneath which is 
 occupied by a lumber-room or workshop approached 
 from the exterior of the chm'ch. At the extremity 
 of the northern transept is a communication with 
 the sacristy and with the cloisters, and the con- 
 m2
 
 164 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 ventual buildings attached to the church. There 
 is also a large chapel on the western side of either 
 transept opening off it ; and at the point where the 
 nave joins the transept, the pavement is raised to 
 the extent of one or two shallow steps, so that the 
 whole floor of the latter part of the church is a 
 little hidier than that of the former. 
 
 The bronze tablets recording the names and 
 ao-es of those who fell at Cm*tatone and Montanara, 
 v>^hich have been already mentioned, are affixed to 
 the eastern wall of the southern transept, between 
 the entrance to the chancel, and the opening of one 
 of the chapels on the south side of it. 
 
 The immense nave and side-aisles of the chm'ch 
 were very full, when the little party, whose con- 
 versation has been recorded in the last chapter, en- 
 tered it. A Tuscan crowd, however closely packed, 
 is always not only orderly, but singularly good 
 tempered and com-teous. It is sufficient for any 
 one to manifest a desire to pass through it, for 
 every facility to be offered by the immediate by- 
 standers to the operation. The prominent feeling 
 in the mind of an Englishman in such a position is, 
 that he has as good a right as another to occupy his 
 standing ground, and that he will not, therefore, 
 permit himself to be ousted from it. The Tuscan, 
 little accustomed to think of rights, and ever ready 
 to sympathise with any manifestation of feeling or
 
 THE REQUIEM IX SANTA CROCE. 165 
 
 desire, tolerates any encroachment on them, and 
 unscrupulously encroaches on those of others, ex- 
 pecting — not in yain — to be tolerated in turn. 
 
 It was not difficult, therefore, for Francesca and 
 the three gentlemen with her, to make their way 
 up the length of the naye into the transept. The 
 bay-^^Teath carried by the former, moreoyer, suffi- 
 ciently indicated to eyerybody in the crowd that 
 she and her friends were among those more espe- 
 cially interested in the commemoration about to be 
 celebrated, and that they had a function to per- 
 form at the upper end of the building. The ma- 
 jority of the crowd at the lower, or western end of 
 the church, were naturally mere lookers-on, though 
 almost all more or less warmly sympathisers in the 
 business of the day ; and they made way, not with- 
 out a feeling and looks of mournful sympathy ^Wtli 
 the little group. 
 
 In the large open space of the transept in front 
 of the wall on which the tablets were affixed, the 
 crowd that had collected before them was com- 
 posed almost wholly of those who had a special 
 interest in the anniversary- of a similar nature to 
 that of Professor Varani and his party. There 
 were fathers and mothers who had sent forth sons 
 for the cause of Italy, who had come back no 
 more. There were girls whose liyes had been de- 
 solated and left empty by the imtimely death of
 
 16(3 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 those for whose loss they could not be comforted. 
 But the names of the beloved ones were there 
 among the heroes on the roll of those wdiom Italy- 
 would remember as the proto-mart)TS of her new 
 liberty! And there was not a momnier there 
 whose right to point evermore — ^lie and his chikben 
 after him — to the name of one among those who 
 fought and fell at Cm'tatone, as one of their own, 
 was not envied ! 
 
 There did not appear to be any agents of the 
 authorities in the church, either soldiers or police 
 force. It seemed as if the paternal government 
 had decided on allowing the people to mom*n their 
 dead, and say their prayer in peace. But a sort 
 of curtain of coarse sail-cloth had been hung up 
 before the bronze tablets, so as to hide them en- 
 tirely from the ]3eople. Whether the authorities 
 of the government had imagined that by thus 
 hiding the object of the people's reverence and 
 regard from their eyes, they would succeed in pre- 
 venting all commemoration of the day; or Avhether, 
 as is most likely, the intention was merely to in'i- 
 tate the people into some act which should form an 
 excuse for violent interference on the part of the 
 police, is uncertain. But if the object of the go- 
 vernment was to arouse a vehement feeling of in- 
 dignation among the Florentines, that object was 
 most fully attained.
 
 THE REQUIEM IN SANTA CROCE. 167 
 
 A great many ^^Teaths, some of evergreens, some 
 of flowers, had, nevertheless, been brought and re- 
 verently laid on the broad pavement beneath the 
 tablets ; and the brmgers of them were kneeling 
 in prayer in considerable numbers ; and the out- 
 side crowd of those who stood around was hushed 
 in s}'mpathy with the mourners, when a sound 
 of voices raised in anger was heard from the 
 outskirts of the crowd around those wdio were 
 kneeling before the bronze tablets, and in a mo- 
 ment or two afterwards the report of a pistol re- 
 echoed through the buikhng. At the same mo- 
 ment, the cause of the distm'bance was evident to 
 those whose eyes had been turned towards the 
 veiled tablets. Some daring hand, obeying the im- 
 pulse of a heart that had been stirred by the das- 
 tardly outrage to greater anger than it could con- 
 trol, had suddenly and violently torn down the cur- 
 tain, and given the venerated tablets with the ho- 
 noured names inscribed on them to the eager eyes 
 of the people. Of course, an immense movement of 
 the crowd and violent confusion were the immediate 
 consequences. The vast church was filled first 
 with articulate cries and loud mianswered queries ; 
 and then, mth inarticulate shrieks of frightened 
 women. As usual, in such cases, it was impossible 
 to ascertain, at the time or afterwards, who had 
 fired the pistol ; though it is probable that the fact
 
 168 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 was well known to the government agents. For it 
 could hardly have been fired by any one of the 
 people otherwise than at some individual of the 
 public force. Now, no one of that body was killed 
 in the church ; and if any one had been fired on 
 and not killed, he would have reported the fact. 
 
 Francesca started up from her knees and pressed 
 close to the side of her husband, who had been stand- 
 ing immediately behind her. Her heroism seemed 
 all to have vanished with her military trappings, or 
 with the inspiration of the cause which had in- 
 duced her to assume them ; for she tm^ned pale, 
 and trembled as her husband threw his arm around 
 her. 
 
 " It is coming, then ! " Rinaldo said, with a cool, 
 concentrated indignation ; " I thought as much ! 
 The vile wi'etches cannot leave us in peace ^yith 
 our dead! The remembrance is too bm'ning a 
 shame to them even for them to endure ! " 
 
 " Let us get out of the church if we can ! " said 
 Francesca ; " see, the crowd is all in movement, 
 and the priests have ceased the service." 
 
 " Nay ! let us remain, and see what comes," said 
 the Professor ; " we have broken no law, not even 
 any order of the police. Let us remain quiet ! Do 
 not let us increase the confusion and the rush by 
 attempting to leave the church. We cannot be 
 punished for quietly praying here ! "
 
 THE KEQUIEM IN SANTA CEOCE. 169 
 
 " But what do you suppose that it is ? " asked 
 Giulio ; " what is happening, or going to happen ?" 
 
 " The agents of the pohce, seeing that the people 
 gave them no cause for interfering, are purposely 
 giving rise to disturbance; insulting some man — 
 some woman, more likely — till they succeed in pro- 
 voking a show of resistance ; then making aiTests, 
 and ordering the clearing of the church. Oh ! I 
 know the ways of them ! " 
 
 " Then the quieter we are, the more we shall 
 puzzle them ! " said the Professor ; " I vote for 
 quietly remaining where we are ! " 
 
 A good many of those who had been gathered 
 in the transept in front of the tablets seemed in- 
 clined to adopt the Professor's tactics. But the 
 great bulk of the crowd were pressing down the 
 nave tumultuously towards the great western doors, 
 anxious only to leave the church. From the slightly 
 elevated vantage ground of the transept, those who 
 remained there could look dowTi on the sea of heads 
 pressing forwards in terror and disorder down the 
 nave of the church. The police had no longer any 
 difficulty in declaring that " disturbance" had taken 
 place. There was disturbance enough ! But the 
 shirri* had knowingly and intentionally caused it. 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of the tumultuous rush 
 
 ♦ The odious name of the despotic and irresponsible agents of the 
 police power.
 
 170 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 of the terrified and excited crowd towards the doors, 
 while each man was asking his neighbour what the 
 matter was, and nine-tenths of the surging mass of 
 people coukl give no reasonable reply to the ques- 
 tion — amid the shrieking of the women which filled 
 the enormous and solemn spaces of the chm'cli 
 with strange and unseemly echoes, a sound still 
 more strange and unseemly in that place was 
 heard ; and the suspicions expressed by Rinaldo, 
 that the government would be found to have taken 
 means to interfere with the peaceful comme- 
 moration of the anniversary, were but too fully 
 verified. 
 
 Not having dared, under the circumstances of 
 the case, to take the strong and unprecedented 
 measm-e of forbidding the sui^ivors to celebrate a 
 requiem in memoiy of then' lost relatives, the 
 Grand-Ducal authorities had determined to inter- 
 rupt the peaceful ceremony. The sound, which, 
 strange and revoltingly startling as it was in such 
 a place, was well known enough to every ear in 
 the crowd to be at once understood and interpreted 
 aright, was the tramp of a body of soldiers, enter- 
 ing the chm'ch from the end of the nortliern 
 transept. 
 
 It has been explained, that the communication 
 between the church and the convent, and the 
 cloisters, and sacristies, opens into the former at
 
 THE REQUIEM IN SANTA CROCE. 171 
 
 that point. It became e^^dent, therefore, that it. 
 had been the predeterminate intention of the 
 government to interrupt the funeral sendee, for 
 the troops must have been placed in the convent 
 over-night, since assuredly none had been intro- 
 duced into it in the course of the morning. The 
 priests (monks of the adjoining monastery) must 
 have been aware of what was about to take place. 
 But to all else in that crowded congregation the 
 surprise was complete. 
 
 Tramp, tramp, tramp, they came, one file after 
 another, through the sacristy door, till a great pait 
 of the transept was filled with soldiers. The 
 priests, at the first inteiTuption of the service, had 
 of course vanished into their sacristy, or into the 
 chancel hidden behind the high altar. Two bodies 
 of soldiers were marched into the chm'ch, each 
 under the command of its own officer — one of 
 Grand-Ducal, and one of Austrian troops. The 
 difference in the subsequent conduct of these two 
 bodies was very remarkable ; and it is painful to 
 be obliged to record that this difference was all to 
 the advantage of the Austrian ! 
 
 Tramp ! tramp ! the automaton-like personifica- 
 tion of brute force came on ; and the men, at 
 successive words of command, which rung out 
 hideously beneath the rafters of that roof — (oh ! if 
 it could be imagined that the spirits of those, whose
 
 172 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 sepulchres make those desecrated walls sacred, were 
 conscious of the scene !) — filing across the whole 
 breadth of the church, formed in a double line 
 along the top of the steps ascending from the nave 
 and side-aisles to the transept, thus cutting off the 
 multitude who were thronmncr towards the western 
 doors from those who had remained in the neif]jh- 
 bourhood of the spot where the tablets were 
 affixed. 
 
 As soon as the men had been thus formed, or 
 after the pause of a few moments, they began to 
 advance down the nave and side-aisles, driving and 
 forcing the retiring crowd before them, which was 
 escaping into the piazza as fast as the capacity of 
 the three great doors, and the eagerness of the 
 alarmed people, would permit them to do so. 
 Meantime the police force in uniforai, and the 
 shirH in plain clothes, were busy making numerous 
 arrests among those who had remained in the rear 
 of the soldiers. 
 
 In a \QTy few minutes the nave was entuely 
 cleared; and the troops, following the people out 
 through the western doors, again took up a position 
 on the steps before the west front of the church, 
 thus commanding from an elevation of some six 
 or eight feet the large space of the Piazza Santa 
 Croce.
 
 THE REQUIEM IN SANTA CROCE. 173 
 
 In the next minute a discharge of fire-arms was 
 heard by those who had remained at the upper end 
 of the church! 
 
 " Good Heavens ! they are firing on the people ! " 
 exclaimed Rinaldo. " Is it possible !" 
 
 " Filing over their heads to disperse the crowd, 
 most likely ! " said Giulio. 
 
 " If they are killing our brothers, we should be 
 with them," cried the Professor, making, as he 
 spoke, one huge ungainly stride in the direction of 
 the nave. " We are the guilty ones," he con- 
 tmued, " for we were of those who rebelled against 
 oui* dear friends here in the white coats at Curta- 
 tone!" 
 
 But Francesca sprung after him, and, clinging 
 to his arm, cried, " No ! no ! you said it was best 
 to remain here! What good can you do? You 
 cannot leave me here ! " 
 
 " Possibly the people, outraged beyond all bear- 
 ing, have broken out into resistance!" said Giulio, 
 who had been attentively listening to the sound 
 which reached the spot where they were at the 
 farther end of the long church. " I hear a few 
 dropping musket-shots among the roar of voices ; 
 but they have not fired a second volley. I shall 
 go ! I must see what is going on !" 
 
 But, as he spoke, a couple of slirri stepped up on
 
 174 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 each side of him, and made signs to one of the 
 carahinieri* to take him in charge. 
 
 "Never mind!" he cried to his friends, as he 
 was hurried off, " they can't hurt me ! Only take 
 care that some one of you come to see me. I must 
 speak with you !" 
 
 There is a side-door in the southern wall of the 
 chmxh, a little below the transept, opening into 
 the Via dei Malcontenti ; and the police agents 
 were hurrying away the persons they had arrested 
 through this exit. Many arrests, were made. In- 
 deed, all those who had remained in the rear of 
 the soldiers might have been an'ested if the police 
 agents had thought fit to do so. But they probably 
 considered that too large a bag of game might be 
 embarrassing to their masters, and contented them- 
 selves with driving the greater number of the 
 people out of the chmTh through the same door by 
 which they carried off their captures. 
 
 Malatesta was one of the last arrested; and 
 Francesca and her husband and brother found 
 themselves free in the comparatively quiet Via dei 
 Malcontenti. 
 
 Meantime, what had happened on the western 
 steps of the church and on \\\q piazza was sim2:)ly 
 this. As soon as the soldiers had been formed in 
 
 * The armed police are so called.
 
 THE REQUIEM IX SANTA CROCE. 175 
 
 line on the top of the steps, and while the excited 
 crowd were massed in the open space before and 
 below tliem, the Italian soldiers fired a volley into 
 the then hannless crowd. Then harmless, I 
 say, because it is true, that in the melee and con- 
 fusion in the church, while the crowd was rushing 
 towards the gi'eat doors, some of the police agents 
 who were mixed up with the crowd were roughly 
 handled. A few of them had to go into hospital, 
 and were treated by the medical men for con- 
 tusions about the head, and bruises. There were 
 no knife wounds, and no jnstol-sJwt icound. 
 
 Whether the Italian officer who gave his men 
 the order to fire on an unarmed and unresisting 
 crowd of men, women, and children, did so in 
 obedience to pre^^ous orders, or in the exercise of 
 his own discretion, was not known. It is, however, 
 certain that the Grand-Ducal government approved 
 the act, when it had been done; for no inquiry 
 was instituted, and no slightest censure passed on 
 the officer who had done the deed. 
 
 The Austrian soldiers stood by the side of the 
 Italian soldiers on the steps of the chm'ch. But 
 while the latter were firing at their fellow-countiy- 
 men, the Austrian troops stood motionless ! 
 
 Thus was consmumated one of those deeds 
 which live in the memory of a people long after
 
 176 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 much bad government of far more widely influen- 
 tial evil tendency has been forgotten. For many 
 a year yet, even though the deed has received its 
 punishment, and the author of it has it not in his 
 power to do fm'ther evil, the black day of Santa 
 Croce \n\\ be remembered in Tuscany. It was 
 vividly remembered on the memorable 27th of 
 April, 1859, and contributed its part towards the 
 passing of the irreversible decree, which on that 
 day deposed a dynasty. 
 
 For the time, however, the Grand-Ducal govern- 
 ment had its triumph and gained its object. The 
 offending bronze tablets were removed that very 
 night from the wall I It seems hardly credible that 
 a sovereimi should have been cruilty of iniri-atitude 
 SO base, and meanness so contemptible. It was so, 
 however. The tablets, recording the names of 
 those who had fallen in an expedition sent forth to 
 flcrht for their countiw bv the sovereis^n who was 
 SO anxious to forget the fact, were removed, lest 
 they should give offence to the brave enemy, who 
 felt a soldier-like admiration for the foe which had 
 opposed him. They were taken down from their 
 place on the sacred wall, and the Tuscans were 
 bidden to forget all about those untoward events at 
 Cm'tatone and ^lontanara. 
 
 But the Tuscans did not forget them. And
 
 THE REQUIEM IN SAXTA CEOCE. 177 
 
 when the Grand-Duke was taken clown from his 
 place, the tablets were hunted out from the lumber- 
 cellar m the fortress into which they had been 
 thrown, and were restored to the spot where they 
 may now once again be seen. 
 
 The first care of Rinaldo and his wife and the 
 Professor, as soon as they found themselves free in 
 the Via dei Malcontenti, was to hmTv homewards 
 to the house by the Porta Romana, for the purpose 
 of reassuring the poor old mother left at home, who 
 had in so many ways already felt the smart of the 
 political ills of her countrs'. The entire city was, 
 of com-se, greatly agitated by the events which had 
 taken place ; and the wildest rumours, as to the 
 number of the slain and wounded, were flying 
 about the town. To make the best of their way 
 homewards, however, it was desirable to avoid the 
 Piazza Santa Croce, which, under ordinary- circum- 
 stances, would have been the shortest w^ay. For 
 the troops, though no firing had taken place since 
 the beginning of the distm'bance, were still there 
 under arms ; and in the lower part of the ijiazza, 
 and the small streets opening on to it, there were 
 still considerable masses of the population, and a 
 great agitation prevailed ; and there seemed reason 
 to doubt whether the atrocity of the provocation 
 might not yet prove to be too much even for the 
 
 VOL. III. X
 
 178 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 quiet and unresisting habits of a Tuscan popula- 
 tion, and lead to ulterior and more serious dis- 
 turbances. But there was a crushing force of 
 Austrian troops in the city, and any attempt at 
 insurrection would have been madness. Slowly, 
 therefore, and ^\•ith deep but muttered impreca- 
 tions on theii' government, the people by degrees 
 retired to their homes, and " order reigned in 
 Florence." 
 
 Rinaldo and his wife and brother-in-law, tm'ning 
 tlieii* backs on the piazza^ and follomng the Via 
 dei Malcontenti to its farther end at the city wall, 
 passed thence by the remote and quiet Via delle 
 Torricelle to tlie Lung' Amo, and so crossing the 
 Ponte alle Grazie, gained the Oltr' Arno quarter of 
 the city, and reached the Porta Romana in safety. 
 
 Hardly a word was exchanged between them 
 till they came to the walls at the extremity of the 
 Via dei Malcontenti. By that time the noise of 
 voices and the tramping of troops had died away 
 behind them, and the remote part of the city 
 which they had reached was as quiet as if no- 
 thing out of the ordinary coiu'se of the usual 
 rather sleepy Florentine life had been taking place 
 mthin the walls. 
 
 " A nice sort of welcome Florence has given to 
 our fiiend Giulio on his arrival," said Rinaldo, as 
 they stopped to listen, standing in the road mider
 
 THE REQUIEM IN SANTA CROCE. 179 
 
 the grey old wall. " To think of his coming here 
 by mere chance this morning to tmnble into such a 
 business ! " 
 
 " It is well, at all events, that it was he rather 
 than either of you two that the shirri laid hands 
 on," said Francesca ; " not," she added, " that I 
 think little of any evil to nostro hiion Giulio — on 
 the contrarv'; but, as he said, they cannot hurt 
 him ; and it would have been a very different 
 affah if either of you had fallen into their 
 clutches." 
 
 " Oh, no ! they'll let him out fast enough when 
 they find out who and what he is," said the Pro- 
 fessor ; " nevertheless, I am sorry he was taken. 
 I was very- anxious to have a talk vA\h hun." 
 
 " I am glad they have taken him ! " cried 
 Rmaldo ; " the miserable vermui will find them- 
 selves in the TVTong box, an-esting an officer in the 
 Piedmontese service, and no reason to give for it ! 
 Perhaps it may lead to something ! " 
 
 " Do not forget what he said about going to see 
 him," said Francesca ; " you must go to-morrow 
 morning ^^dthout fail, Rinaldo ; — or perhaps you had 
 better go, Pietro mioj as you say you want to speak 
 to him. Or why not both of you go together? " 
 
 " You are settling it all very much at yoiu' ease, 
 cava mia ! " returned Rinaldo. " I wonder where 
 you learnt your ideas of imprisonment for pohtical 
 n2
 
 180 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 causes ? Not at Bologiia, in Pope's-land, I should 
 think. Giulio will be in the Murate * in an hour 
 from this; and how, I should like to know, can 
 either the Professor or I get leave to see him?" 
 
 '' You don't mean to say that he mil be kept in 
 solitary confinement ? " said Francesca, aghast. 
 
 ^' Che ! cite I It is only a preventive arrest ! " 
 said the Professor. 
 
 " No ! they won't think of refusing to let him 
 see anybody," rejoined Rinaldo ; " but leave must 
 be asked. And I que^ion very much if either I 
 or Pietro — old Curtatone men — would get leave. 
 And it would be wiser not to ask it. No ! I'll tell 
 you what I am thinking. Giiilio told me that his 
 first business in Florence was to see his old friend 
 Carlo Brancacci. Now, Brancacci, though a good 
 fellow enough, is in with lots of the court party. 
 His uncle is a chamberlain. Brancacci would have 
 no difficulty in getting an order to see him. And 
 his asking for it would be likely to do him as much 
 good as om' asking for it would do harm." 
 
 "You are ri^ht, Rinaldo! That will be the 
 plan ! " said Francesca. 
 
 '• 111 try and find Brancacci this afternoon, as 
 soon as I have seen la madrey poverma ! He will get 
 
 * The principal state prison of Florence, formerly a celebrated 
 convent.
 
 THE REQUIEM IN SANTA CROCE. 181 
 
 the order the first thing in the morning, and be 
 w-ith him before noon." 
 
 And Rinaldo having succeeded, in the com'se of 
 the afternoon, in finding the comfortable and jovial 
 Cai'lo discussing the affair of the morning among a 
 knot of gossips at the door of Doney's cafe, and 
 having fm'ther succeeded in dramng him on one 
 side, and communicating his tidings to him, to 
 Carlo's infinite astonishment, that laughing philo- 
 sopher, but finn friend, was with the prisoner by 
 noon the following day, as Rinaldo had said. 
 
 END OF BOOK Y.
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 THE JiIARCHESE :NLiLATESTA.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE MARCHESE FLOROIOND AUD CARLO 
 BRANCACCI. 
 
 The dawn of a new era of regeneration and 
 national independence, which shone with so brief 
 and so delusive a splendour in Italy in 1848, was, 
 as most of us still well remember, very quickly 
 overcast. All the bright hopes faded away, and 
 the nation sank back once more into the deep ruts 
 of its old ways and its old evils. All this is matter 
 of history, and is one of the most interesting chap- 
 ters in the histoiy of modem Europe. But the 
 observers of social changes, and of the effects pro- 
 duced on the every-day life of the masses of the 
 people by the movement of great political events, 
 found a curious subject of study in the social phe- 
 nomena to which the sudden clearing and rapidly
 
 186 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 succeeding gloom of the political sky in Italy gave 
 rise. 
 
 In the early months of 1848, when sovereigns, 
 lay and ecclesiastic, were tossing their crowns and 
 tiaras into the air, and crying ^^ Hurrah for Italy!" 
 liberalism was the fashion, and everybody was an 
 out-and-out liberal, except the few whom honest 
 and strong conviction, or equally strong interest, 
 enlisted on what then appeared the losing side. 
 When all that was changed, when the sovereigns 
 declared that all they had been saying and doing 
 was an error or a jest, and that it was now time to 
 give over fooling, and return to work and sober 
 sense, of course the prevailing political fashion 
 changed too. Liberty caps were no longer the 
 only wear ! Good society, with suqmsing rea- 
 diness, put on caps of quite another form, had 
 a new set of phrases on the tip of its tongue, 
 forgot all that comi; manners required it to forget, 
 and swam as buoyantly in one direction as it had 
 in the contrary one before the tide turned. After 
 Novara all the world was dynastic, except those 
 (they were not so few as the previous minority had 
 been) who were liberals and progressists from real 
 conviction and true patriotism. 
 
 Of coiu'se this rapid right-about evolution re- 
 quired greater agility, and was more conspicuous in 
 those who had been running strongest in the con-
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 187 
 
 tran' direction. There was, however, a larcre class 
 of people ill whom a certain change of tone could 
 be observed, if you marked them closely, but in 
 whom it was very sHght; people with whom the 
 tide did not inin strongly in either direction ; some 
 in whom scarcely any tidal movement could have 
 been detected when the tide was flowing, and in 
 whom, therefore, proportionably little change could 
 be obseiwed when it ebbed. And it was curious to 
 note that some of such persons were equally disliked 
 and abused by the stronger partisans of either tone 
 of feeling and opinion, while others were excused 
 and tolerated, and liked by both sides. 
 
 Of this latter sort was Cai'lo Brancacci. In his 
 old student days at Pisa, in 1848, he had certainly 
 called himself, and thought himself, a liberal, and 
 had been the associate and dear friend of earnest 
 and thorough-going liberals. But none of his 
 friends and connexions among the "black" party had 
 then sho^vn him the cold shoulder, or shaken their 
 heads and called him a dangerous man. And now, 
 when the set of the social ciuTents carried him 
 natm^ally and easily into " dpiastic " associations 
 and habitudes, none of his old friends greatly 
 blamed him, and much less dreamed of considering 
 him their enemy. He was so jolly, so good natured, 
 so full of fun and laughter ; he was growing so 
 fat ; he so utterly ignored all political differences
 
 188 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 between his intimates, and would throw his arm 
 over the shoulder of an old friend, though he were 
 a marked Curtatone man, just as affectionately in 
 the midst of a group of frequenters of the comt 
 as he had ever done in student days at Pisa, that 
 he was accepted as a friend in both camps, without 
 being required to do duty as belonging to either. 
 No man in Florence had so large an acquaintance 
 among all classes ; and all his acquaintance were 
 his dear friends. 
 
 There was a certain similarity of character be- 
 tween him and his uncle, the Marchese Florimond. 
 But Carlo's was the larger, kindlier, and more 
 genial nature. The difference was, that the ^lar- 
 chese Florimond hated nobody ; but Carlo Bran- 
 cacci loved everybody. 
 
 On the afternoon of the day after the terrible 
 and memorable scene in the church of Santa Croce 
 — of the 30th of May, that is to say — Carlo Bran- 
 cacci was sitting closeted with his uncle in his bed- 
 room in the little Brancacci palace in the Via Larga. 
 It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and the 
 ^Marchese Florimond had just arisen from his siesta. 
 Carlo, after his visit to Malatesta in the prison of 
 the ^lurate, had humed home, sui'e that his uncle 
 would be at that hour asleep in his o^^'n cool room 
 with the persiane carefully closed, and that any 
 one sufficiently ignorant of the Marchese' s habits
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 189 
 
 to present himself at his door at that hour, would be 
 sent away with the solemnly pronounced declaration 
 of the old servant, '' II Signor Marchese dormer 
 
 It made no part of Carlo's intention to wake his 
 imcle, for he ^^^shed to find him in perfect good 
 humoui', and in charity mth all men ; which he 
 well knew wou.ld not be the case if the Marchese 
 Florimond's siesta on a warm May afternoon were 
 brought to any other than its natm'al termination. 
 Having waited, therefore, patiently till this moment 
 arrived in the due course of nature, and at its 
 wonted time. Carlo sent in to say that he wished to 
 speak with his uncle, and would be obliged if the 
 Marchese Avould give him half an hour before he 
 went out. 
 
 The conference between them lasted much 
 longer than the time named, and the Marchese 
 Florimond was missed that day in the Cascine. 
 
 " And you saw the documents supporting this 
 extraordinary' story ? " said the Marchese, after he 
 and his nephew had been talking some little time 
 together. 
 
 " Oh, yes I he has them all with him. There 
 is no doubt at all about the matter. Besides, tlie 
 proof has been accepted, and all put in train at 
 Bologna," replied Carlo. 
 
 "It is a most extraordinary story* — a strange 
 fatality ! And, per Bacco ! the discover}- comes
 
 190 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 just in the nick of time ! Truly I think one may- 
 see the hand of Providence in it !" said the Httle 
 Marchese, nodding his bewigged head up and down 
 with a sort of pious sententiousness, which seemed 
 meant to imply an admission that perhaps, after all, 
 there was something in such notions, though a lay- 
 man and a Marchese could not be expected to be 
 very conversant with such matters. 
 
 '' I don't know about the nick of time," rejoined 
 Carlo ; " I don't think, for my part, that they would 
 have succeeded in making the little Contessina 
 many that animalaccio* the Marchese Alfonso, if 
 you mean that." 
 
 " I don't know ! Girls have to marry the men 
 chosen for them by their families, and, after a little 
 more or less of kicking, do so every day ; and are 
 very contented wives aftenvards. But, any way, it 
 is fortunate that all this has come out before the 
 Contessina was sent away to her convent at Palaz- 
 zuolo ! Per Dio I I should not like to go and live 
 in a convent at Palazzuolo ! It is homble to think 
 of it," said the Marchese, shuddering a little as he 
 spoke. " She was to have left Florence the day 
 after to-morrow, or next day at farthest. The 
 Canonico Adalberto is not a man to joke with I 
 Per Dio ! he frightens me, that man. Vaole do' 
 die vuole^ il Canonico Adalberto /"f 
 
 * The depreciatory form of anbnalc ; " that nasty little animal." 
 t « He will what he wills."
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 191 
 
 " Ay! I should think he was a difficult customer to 
 deal with ! But it will be all right now !" said Carlo. 
 
 " And I am glad, with all my heart, that it A\all 
 be in time to prevent her from being sent away 
 into exile again, poor little Contessina ! I say 
 again, it is in the nick of time !" 
 
 " And not a moment is to be lost, if all is to be 
 put right before the day named for the departure 
 of the Contessina," observed Carlo. 
 
 "No time to be lost, davvero!^'' said his imcle; 
 " and how do you piu'pose proceeding, since it 
 seems that while nostro povero Giulio remains in 
 prison, the matter is all in your hands." 
 
 The Marchese Florimond's mode of speaking of 
 Malatesta was a safe sjinptom that his fortunes 
 were brightening. Though, like a good-natured 
 uncle as he was, he had opened his house to his 
 favom'ite nephew's friend, he had never called him 
 " nostro Giulio " before. 
 
 " What a disgrazia,'^ he continued, " that he 
 should have been arrested just at such a moment. 
 But those stupid carahinieri are always putting 
 their hands on the ^ATong man ! But that will 
 easily be put to rights I " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" replied Carlo, "there will be no 
 difficulty about that ! The minister will soon make 
 it all right. A mistake ! very sony ! and there's 
 an end of the matter ! Che diavolo ! do mistakes 
 never happen !"
 
 192 GIULIO MALATESTi.. 
 
 " But what do you mean to do in the first place, 
 Carlo onio f — speak to the Canonico Adalberto ?-— 
 lay all the circumstances before him ? " 
 
 " Not just yet ! No ! my notion is to have 
 every^thing a little more prepared first! And I 
 wish that you should have all the credit of bring- 
 ing the matter about, uncle ! " said the judicious 
 nephew. " You are the friend of the family ! 
 You are the Marchese Brancacci ! I am a mere 
 nobody. It will come naturally and properly from 
 you. It will be a pleasure to you, too, to commu- 
 nicate to the Contessa Zenobia what we must all 
 know she will be pleased to hear." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! La povera huona Zenobia ! It 
 has gone to her heart to use severity towards the 
 Contessina ! If it had not been for the Canonico, 
 she would never have had the courage to do it ! " 
 
 " And she will not be sorry, if I know anything 
 of the Contessa Zenobia, to hear that that animal 
 Alfonso's nose is to be put out of joint, eh, 
 uncle ? " 
 
 " Indeed you may say so ! She can't endure the 
 insignificant little -wretch. Per Bacco ! the Con- 
 tessa Zenobia knows too well what a man should 
 be like to have any toleration for such a creature ! " 
 
 " I believe you ! " rejoined Carlo, with a wink, 
 which was intended solely for his own private 
 satisfaction.
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 193 
 
 " And what step do you propose that I should 
 take first ? " asked the Uttle Marchese, exceedingly 
 well pleased that the prominent part of the busi- 
 ness in hand should be assigned to him. 
 
 " The first thing to be done is to put right this 
 unlucky accident of the arrest. The fact is, 
 between ourselves, this lamentable affair at Santa 
 Croce is a veiy ba^l business altogether. But 
 that does not concern us ! Of course they will be 
 ready enough to let a Piedmontese subject alone, 
 and be glad enough to be sure they will hear no 
 more of it. And, really, there does not seem to 
 have been the smallest ground for an-esting 
 Giulio." 
 
 " Diamine ! * of com^se not ! It was all a mistake 
 — a blmider of those stupid carahinieri. The 
 minister will be the first to see it in that licrht." 
 
 " Do not you think that you will be able to see 
 him about it to-night, so as to have an order for 
 Giulio's release sent the first thing in the morn- 
 
 ing?" 
 
 " I will try- ! I ^^ill do so if it is possible ! But 
 
 I must accompany the Contessa to the Pergola, 
 you know ! " said the little man, as if he was speak- 
 ing of the most sacred duty that any man could be 
 called upon to perform. 
 
 * A common exclamation of assent, including an expression of 
 surprise that anybody could imagine the reverse. 
 
 VOL. III.
 
 194 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " Possibly you might see liim at the Pergola," 
 suggested Carlo. 
 
 " It is possible ! And then it would be all easy. 
 But if not, I ^\all be with him the veiy first thing 
 to-morrow morning. Of course I must tell him 
 the whole circ umstances ? " 
 
 ^' There ^\all be no need to enter on any question 
 of the marriage. It ^\all be sufficient to say what 
 mil induce him to sign the order for Giulio's libe- 
 ration." 
 
 " And about the Contessa ? What am I to say 
 to her ? " asked the docile Marchese. 
 
 " Oh ! best say nothing yet. Let us wait till we 
 have all ready. I must see this strange Abbess, 
 too, somehow or other, and I have not an idea yet 
 where she is to be found, or how to get speech of 
 her maternity when I do find her." 
 
 " Ah ! that may be likely enough to tm'u out 
 a more difficult matter than the other," said 
 the Marchese, shaking his head. " I heard a talk 
 of heresy, or some such matter. And though I 
 thought that the Signor Canonico seemed more 
 inclined to sneer at the thing than anything else, 
 still those black cattle keep then' affairs so close, 
 and are so jealous of being meddled with, that I 
 should not be sui'prised if you were to find it a 
 veiy difficult matter to get any opportunity of 
 speaking to her, at all events privately."
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 195 
 
 " I do not know that it is absolutely necessary to 
 speak to her privately. There mil be nothing to 
 be said that can do any mischief if overheard, if it 
 comes to that," said Carlo. " I suppose they may 
 put some old nun to see all fair between me and the 
 Abbess. I have no objection ! " 
 
 " I do not quite understand what it is you have 
 got to say to her," returned his uncle ; " and in 
 fact, the Avhole story is so strange and puzzling, 
 that I don't half understand it yet. What has the 
 Abbess to do in the matter ? " 
 
 " Whv simply this. Giulio has, for a very lono; 
 time, been most anxious, poor dear fellow, to dis- 
 cover his mother. And now, of com'se, it is more 
 than ever desirable to do so. It is clear that the 
 poor woman, wlioever she is, has been foully 
 wronged ; and if she is alive, and this side of the 
 Alps, we mil find her out." 
 
 " But what has the heretical Abbess of Monte- 
 pulciano got to do with the matter, in Heaven's 
 name 1 " reiterated the Marchese. 
 
 " Why, Giulio lias reason to think that she 
 knows something of his mother's whereabouts. It 
 seems that she herself told the Contessina Stella 
 as much, and she wrote it to Giulio. He had been 
 to Montepulciano to look her up, and had come 
 thence to Florence the very morning that he was 
 so unluckily arrested." 
 
 o2
 
 196 GIULIO IHALATESTA. 
 
 "Of course she will be found if she is alive," 
 said the Marchese. " Under the altered circum- 
 stances of the case there -will be little difficulty, I 
 should say, in tracing her. It was different before 
 this extraordinary discovery. As things are now, 
 I should not wonder if you found it more difficult 
 to get an interview with this Abbess than to dis- 
 cover the lady by other means." 
 
 " I think I know how to set about it, however," 
 replied his nephew. 
 
 " I am sm'e that is a great deal more than I 
 do ! " retmnied the senior. " I know nothing about 
 the way those sort of people manage then- affairs. 
 But I should not be astonished if the Archbishop's 
 Apparitor, or whatever they call it, or some such 
 extraordinaiy animal, was your especial friend ; for 
 you have friends in all sorts of out-of-the-way 
 holes and comers ! " 
 
 " Nay, my friend is nothing verv^ much out of 
 the common ranks of mortality this time," replied 
 Carlo, laughing. " My old comrade and fellow- 
 student at Pisa, Rinaldo Palinieri, had a sister in 
 a convent at Pistoia. It was a house of the same 
 order as that in which the Contessina was placed at 
 Montepulciano — the Ursulines. And it strikes me 
 as very probable that she may be able to help me 
 to the information I am in search of. I know she 
 is now in Florence, at her mother's house. I know
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 197 
 
 the old lady, too, for when Giulio passed his 
 Carnival here, three years ago, I went there 
 three or four times with him and the Contessina 
 and Mademoiselle Zelie to see her, and give her 
 an opportunity of thanking Giulio for ha^dng 
 saved the life of a son of hers in an accident at 
 Pisa — a poor lad who was killed afterwards at 
 Curtatone." 
 
 " Ah ! that was a bad job, that Curtatone affair ! 
 — a sad mistake ! " said the Marchese, shaking his 
 head with the air of a Bm'leigh. 
 
 "And see," rejoined his nephew, in a tone of 
 mock sententiousness, attuned to that of his uncle's 
 last remark — " see how sm-e one is to suffer for it 
 if one does a orood action. If Giulio had not saved 
 Enrico Palmieri's life in the Cascine at Pisa, the 
 boy would not have gone to be killed at Curtatone. 
 And if he had not been killed at Curtatone, his 
 name would not have been written on these bronze 
 tablets, which seem likely to make as much noise 
 in the world as Moses' Tables of the Command- 
 ments. And if poor Enrico's name had not been 
 on the list, Giulio would not have gone to Santa 
 Croce yesterday with the boy's relatives to com- 
 memorate his death, and, consequently, would 
 not have been arrested. It is a most impiiident 
 act to save anybody's life. One is responsible for 
 all they do in the world afterwards !"
 
 198 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " Gia I pur troppo I " * ejaculated the Marchese 
 Florimoncl, in all seriousness. 
 
 " Well, uncle ! it is never too late to leam ! 
 You must take warning by this example ! " said 
 Carlo. 
 
 " Take warning yovirself, Jigliuolo mio ! As for 
 me, you jump into the Arno while I am standing 
 on the bank, and you will see whether I have the 
 lesson still to learn," retorted the Marchese, who 
 had a vague idea his nephew was quizzing him, 
 and who, at all events, did not relish the phrase 
 " too late," as applied to him. 
 
 " Joking apart, however, my dear uncle," said 
 Carlo, retmniing to his business-like tone, " there is 
 one other matter connected with this affair that it 
 would be well to attend to before we separate." 
 
 "Anything I can do to put things straight in 
 such a manner " 
 
 " I was thinking about the Marchese Cesare 
 Malatesta at Femio " 
 
 " Ay ! fer Bacco ! I do not know what he will 
 say to it! It is an awkward business for him! 
 Veiy awkward, take it any w^ay, and look at it 
 how you will ! " said the ^larchese, with an air of 
 puzzled perplexity. 
 
 " He must lie on his bed as he has made it," re- 
 turned Carlo. " But all that is nothing to us, and 
 
 * " Ay ! it is but too true."
 
 UXCLE AND XEPHEW. 19,9 
 
 we are not called upon to do anything that can be 
 ground of offence to him. On the contrary, it 
 will be a friendly act to give him immediate notice 
 of the facts which have come to our knowledge." 
 
 " Certainly ! certainly ! It is w^hat I would wish 
 any gentleman to do to me in similar cii'cum- 
 stances — Heaven forbid that I should ever come 
 into such circumstances ! " 
 
 " Well, what I was going to suggest was, that 
 you should ^^Tite to him at once," said Carlo. 
 
 " It vdW be a veiy difficult letter to ^^Tite ! " re- 
 tmiied his micle, uneasily. '' Do you happen to 
 know if his second ^^-if e is still living ? " 
 
 " No ! I know that she is not. He has been a 
 wddower many years. She died, I believe, soon 
 after the buth of the ^larchese Alfonso." 
 
 " That is all the better — much better. She was 
 a Sampieri, was she not ? " asked the Marchese, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes ! a Contessa Cecilia Sampieri, also of 
 Fermo, I believe." 
 
 " Oh ! yes ! The Sampieri of Fenno ! a veiy, 
 very well-kno\vn family — wealthy, influential, and 
 much looked up to in that part of the countiy. 
 There was a Cardinal of the name not so very long 
 ago. If I remember right, there were brothers. 
 I think the Contessa Cecilia had brothers. Do you 
 happen to know if any one of them is still living ? "
 
 200 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " No ! I know nothing about tlie family at all ! 
 Why do you ask ? " said Carlo, looking obsenrantly 
 at his uncle. 
 
 " Oh ! nothing ! mere curiosity ! It is nothing 
 
 to us in any way. Only you conceive for the 
 
 Marchese Cesare ! The Sampieri are a very proud 
 family ! " 
 
 " Humph ! " said Carlo, " we are not called upon 
 to look at that side of the matter at all ; all that 
 must settle itself as it can. Now for the letter to 
 the Marchese Cesare ! I do not see that it need 
 be a very difficult one to write. I think I should 
 not go into the circumstances, but write such a 
 letter as must bring him here to Florence. It will 
 be, on the whole, far better — necessary indeed — 
 that he should be here. Give me pen and ink and 
 I mil scratch the rough copy of a letter to be cor- 
 rected and put in proper order by you. You un- 
 derstand that sort of thing so much better than I 
 can be expected to do. There is nothing like being 
 conversant with Courts and the practice of great 
 affairs for giving one tact and skill in such mat- 
 ters." 
 
 Thus judiciously flattered, the Marchese Flori- 
 mond submitted without any difficulty to have his 
 letter wTitten for him by his nephew ; who sat 
 down at his uncle's rarely used ^vriting-table, and 
 produced the following epistle :
 
 uncle and nephew. 201 
 
 " Illustrissimo Signor ^Iarchese, — 
 
 " Although I have never had the pleasure of 
 making your personal acquaintance, I have little 
 doubt that my name is kno^\^l to you, as having 
 been for many years honoured by the intimate 
 friendship and confidence of the Contessa Zenobia 
 Altamari, between whose niece and ward, the Con- 
 tessina Stella, and your son, the Marchese Alfonso, 
 it is proposed to form an alliance, which must be 
 alike honourable and advantageous to either family. 
 Your lordship,* has doubtless no need to be told 
 by me, that some little difficulty is often expe- 
 rienced in such affairs, before the inexperience of 
 a young girl can be led to see the advantages 
 which mark the choice that has been made for her 
 by her family. We have had some slight difficulty 
 of this kind to contend with in the present case. I 
 am not aware whether the ^larchese Alfonso may 
 have thought it worth Avliile to trouble your lord- 
 ship A^th any such trifles ; and, under all the cir- 
 cumstances, I have deemed it best to wiite the 
 present letter without communicating with him 
 upon the subject. 
 
 " The fact is, that the little difficulty has been 
 complicated in this case by a very singular chance, 
 
 * The •word in the original is " Vossignoria ;" for which the 
 phrase in the text is the only translation. But the mode of ad- 
 dress is used indiscriminately in writing to any gentleman.
 
 202 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 wliich has so aiTanged matters, that the cause of 
 the Contessina Stella's unwillingness to fulfil at 
 once the engagements made for her by her family, 
 arises from a girlish preference previously con- 
 ceived for no other than the Marchese Alfonso's 
 half-brother, Signor Giulio Malatesta ! — an excel- 
 lent and estimable young man, to whom the family 
 of the Contessina Stella would have most willingly 
 accorded her hand, had his position been that of 
 the Marchese Alfonso. — A curious trick of the 
 jade Fortune ! is it not, Signor Marchese ? 
 
 " Nevertheless, we should doubtless have suc- 
 ceeded w^ith a little patience in smoothing away all 
 these minor difficulties, had it not been that quite 
 recently some very extraordinary^ circumstances 
 have come to light, — or perhaps it would be more 
 correct to say, — some very extraordinary assertions 
 have been made touching nearly the position and 
 interests of the Marchese Alfonso. It would seem, 
 as far as I have been able to learn, that these asser- 
 tions or reports have taken their rise from the 
 death-bed statements and confessions of a certain 
 Marta Yarani, who died recently at Bologna, and 
 whose son, Dr. Pietro Yarani, Professor of ^Materia 
 Medica in the University of Pisa, is now in Flo- 
 rence. The nature of these assertions, affecting as 
 they very materially do, not only the Marchese 
 Alfonso, but yourself also, is such as, in my 
 humble judgment, to require your immediate pre-
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 20^ 
 
 sence in Florence. And I trust, Signor Marchese, 
 that you will be of opinion that I have acted judi- 
 ciously for youi' interest in giving you the earliest 
 possible intimation of a matter which may, unless 
 it be at once set at rest, lead to very serious con- 
 sequences. 
 
 " I am, lllustrissimo Signor Marchese, with sen- 
 timents of the most distinguished respect, 
 ^' Of your illustrious lordship, 
 
 " The most humble and most obedient servant, 
 " Florimond Brancacci. 
 
 « Florence, May 30, 1851." 
 
 " There," said Carlo, " I think that will do the 
 business ; which is to bring him to Florence, with- 
 out telling him more of the cards in our hand than 
 need be. The word I have ch'opped about the old 
 woman at Bologna aat[11 no doubt be enouo^h to 
 frighten him. And I am sure the letter is courteous 
 enough. But you will know better than me all 
 about that, and will add any graces to the style 
 that it may require." 
 
 So the Marchese Florimond sat down at once, 
 and copied the letter his nephcAv had ^ATitten, word 
 for word ; as the young man knew very well that 
 he would do. 
 
 He sealed it, however, without handing it to 
 Carlo again, saying, as he did so : 
 
 " There, that will do, I think. I have just
 
 204 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 touched it up a little. But the gist of it is what 
 you proposed. But when the Marchese Cesare 
 comes here, what then ? " 
 
 ^' Oh I Giulio will be at liberty by that time ; 
 and they must meet. Of course it must come to 
 that. But whether it will be better for some one 
 else to make him acquainted first with the real state 
 of the case, we shall see. I should have no objec- 
 tion in life to undertake the job of doing so myself. 
 The meetino: between him and old Professor Yarani 
 will be a queer one. But I suppose they w411 have 
 to meet too!" 
 
 "27 im pasticcio di quelliV^* said the Marchese, 
 lifting up his out-turned palms, and nodding his 
 head. 
 
 " Yes ! a queer business enough !" agreed Carlo ; 
 " but we and our fnends are all on the right side 
 of the hedo[e. And now I will o-o and talk to mv 
 old friend Signora Palmieri, and see if I can find 
 out what I want from her daughter. You will 
 remember your promise, uncle, like a dear good 
 uncle as you always are, and see the minister to- 
 night, if possible ; and if not, the first thing to- 
 morrow morning ? " 
 
 * '' Pasticcio" — a pasty. A phrase very commonly used to sig- 
 nify an embroiled and thorny piece of business: " It is a hash of 
 such a sort as " may be the rendering of the Marchese's obser- 
 vation.
 
 UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 205 
 
 " Never fear ! my mind is too full of the matter 
 for there to be any chance of my forgetting it, I 
 can tell you !" said the ^larchese. 
 
 " And we understand one another 1 Not a word 
 as yet to anybody else I" 
 
 "All right!" 
 
 " Shall I post your letter? I must pass the 
 post-office in the piazza J^ 
 
 " Yes ! take it ! It is time for me to think about 
 dressing!" 
 
 "And oh! uncle!" said Carlo, tm^ning as he 
 was leaving the room, " I shall be anxious to know 
 if you have seen the minister. If I come home 
 later than you, as is likely, in case you have suc- 
 ceeded, tell Beppo to put a sheet of paper — see, 
 there is one ready, so that you can't forget it — on 
 the table in my room. If you have not seen him, 
 don't do so. In that way I shall know before I go 
 to bed." 
 
 " Yeiy good ! I feel as if I was tm'ning con- 
 spirator, vrith. all these signals and understand- 
 ings !" 
 
 And so the uncle and nephew parted.
 
 206 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE archbishop's CHANCERY. 
 
 AYhen Carlo came home late that night — for 
 after his i^isit to Signora Palmieri, he had strolled 
 into the Pergola, and having first duly made a little 
 round of visits to a circle of fair friends in the 
 boxes, had joined a knot of young men, who were 
 lounging in the open space between the hindmost 
 benclies of the pit and the doors of it, and had 
 consented to go with them, after the opera was over, 
 to sup at the Bottegone;* — when Carlo at last 
 reached his room in the Via Larga, there was no 
 sheet of paper on his table. 
 
 He had thought it likely that he might see his 
 
 * Bottegone — literally, big shop, from bottega, a shop. It is the 
 nickname of a well-known cafe, at which suppers may be had during 
 the " small hours."
 
 THE archbishop's CHANCERY. 207 
 
 uncle on duty in the Contessa Zenobia's box at the 
 Perp-ola. But he did not reach the theatre till the 
 last act of the opera; and the Contessa Zenobia 
 had departed as soon as the ballet was over, which 
 at Florence is given between the acts of the 
 opera. 
 
 It was evident, however, from the absence of the 
 signal agreed on, that the Marchese had failed to 
 see the minister. He had been more successfid 
 himself, inasmuch as he had seen the persons he 
 went to see. But he had not succeeded in obtain- 
 ing the information he needed. The Signorina 
 Teresa Palmieri had been able, however, to put him 
 in the way of ascertaining the facts. But half a 
 day at least would be thus lost — the first half of the 
 morrow, which was the 31st of May ! And Stella, 
 as matters now stood, was to leave Florence, at the 
 latest, as the Marchese Florimond had said, on the 
 2nd of June ! 
 
 Carlo was of opinion that the various facts 
 which he was preparing to bring to the knowledge 
 of the several parties interested in them, would, 
 when they were loiown, have the effect of cancel- 
 ling the Contessina Stella's destined jom-ney to 
 Palazzuolo. And he was very anxious to be in 
 time to do so. But the time was veiy short. And 
 he began to think how he could cause the putting 
 off of this terrible jom'ney for a few days, without
 
 208 GIULTO MALATESTA. 
 
 disclosing tlie secrets, of which he was the deposi- 
 tary, before the proper moment for doing so an-ived. 
 He determined, however, to take no steps to that 
 end just yet ; but to content himself -with losing no 
 time in prosecuting his inquiries. 
 
 With this ^-iew he was on foot early the next 
 morning, notwithstanding his late supper over- 
 night ; and lea^^ng a note to be given to his uncle 
 as soon as he was stirring, reminding him of his 
 promise to see the minister with a view to Giulio's 
 release early that morning, he succeeded before 
 mid-day in ascertaining that the late Abbess of the 
 nunnery of Santa Filomena at ^lontepulciano was 
 now in a convent about three miles from Florence, 
 in the direction of Sesto, and that an order from 
 the Archbishop of Florence was requisite in order 
 to be permitted to see her. 
 
 After a short debate with himself whether he 
 should induce his uncle to make an application to 
 the Archbishop for the required permission, or 
 should ask him to give him, or prociu-e for him, a 
 letter of recommendation to that magnate, the con- 
 sideration of the pressure of time decided him to 
 take a more direct course. It was already too late 
 for him to find the Marchese at home, especially as 
 he had promised to go out early for the pm'pose of 
 seeing the minister. He could not tell where he 
 would be likely to fall in with him before the even-
 
 209 
 
 ing. The whole day would thus have been lost. 
 He determined, therefore, to go at once to the Arch- 
 bishop himself, trusting to the recommendation of 
 his name, and the decidedly " well-affected" repu- 
 tation connected with it. 
 
 Carlo's notion was that he would go to the Arch- 
 bishop's door, ask if he was at home, and send in 
 his card, desirinor to see Monsicrnore I — draw^nor a 
 verv' erroneous and delusive analogy between the 
 supposed habits of Archbishops and those of ordi- 
 nary mortals. Carlo, though he had seen the 
 Archbishop in the flesh, sitting mth a great gold 
 chain and cross round his neck, and a chaplain op- 
 posite to him, in a huge rickety old-fashioned car- 
 riao^e with two long-tailed blacks in front, and two 
 seedy-looking cocked-hatted footmen behind ; and 
 mifjht even have come ^\'ithin blessing ranoje of his 
 fingers (supposing the rays of benediction from 
 episcopal forefingers to be subjected to laws at all 
 analogous to those of the rays of light) ; had never 
 spoken to any higher ecclesiastical dignitar\' than 
 the Canon Adalberto Altamari. Not being, how- 
 ever, of those natures which are overpoweringly 
 awed by the exteriors of human greatness, he had 
 a ver\' imperfect conception of the majesty which 
 doth hedge an Ai'chbishop, and had no idea that 
 there was any difficulty in coming face to face with 
 him. 
 
 VOL. III. P
 
 210 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 He knew well — who in Florence does not ? — the 
 queer, ancient-looking ramshackle old pile of build- 
 ing to the west of the Baptistery, which is the 
 Archbishop's palace ; but he had never been inside 
 it. By coasting, however, round those parts of the 
 amorphous dust-encrusted old building, which front 
 the Piazza di San Giovanni, and the Via dei Ma- 
 riixnolli, he found in an obscure little lane called 
 the Via dei Suchiellinai, or "Street of the little 
 gimlet-makers," a low-browed archway, which gave 
 entrance into an interior court, by a slight descent 
 — the measure of the rise which in the lapse of 
 centuries the progi'ess of civil life had caused in 
 the sm-rounding thoroughfares, while the Arch- 
 bishop's dwelling, as changeless as himself, had 
 remained characteristically at its ancient level. 
 
 There was a specially forlorn, mouldy, and silent 
 air of quietude about this court, which contrasted 
 strongly with the bustling life of the busiest part 
 of the city outside it. The greatest part of it was 
 in deep shade, and had that dank look, and those 
 gi'een shades about its stones, which indicate per- 
 petual exclusion of the sunshine. One corner of 
 the square space, however, was illuminated by a 
 slanting ray, the habitual presence of which had 
 imparted a quite different tone to the colom'ing of 
 the walls of that part of the building. And on a 
 stone bench in this privileged corner sat an old
 
 THE AKCHBISHOP'S CHAXCEKT. 211 
 
 servant in the redclisli chocolate-colom-ed episcopal 
 liver\', ^^'ith the usual lavish abundance of coarse 
 worsted lace on all the seams. 
 
 The servants of the Roman Catholic hierarchy, 
 in Italy at least, are always remarkably shabby and 
 dirty — I know not why, unless, perhaps, it be for 
 the want of a mistress's eye to take note of such 
 matters — and the specimen in question was no ex- 
 ception to the rule. His abundantly-laced liven- 
 looked as if it had been slept in for years : and the 
 wearer looked as if he were then sleeping in it. 
 He stretched himself and yawned, but >^'ithout 
 rising from his seat in the sunshine, as Carlo came 
 up to him. Nor was he startled into the exertion 
 of speaking even by the unprecedented monstrosity 
 of that jaunty yomig gentleman's demand, whether 
 the Ai-chbishop was at home ? It did make him 
 open his eyes, and stare at the applicant ; but he 
 vouchsafed no other reply than a listless move- 
 ment of his hand towai'ds a small half-glazed door, 
 inside a strong outer door which was standing open 
 in another corner of the com't. 
 
 Obe^-ing this silent uidication as the only com*se 
 before him, he opened the glazed door, and found 
 himself in a small, dark, and veiy mouldy-looking 
 room, and in the presence of two still more mouldy- 
 looking inchviduals, belongmg to that pecuhar class 
 which has been described in the fii*st book of this 
 p2
 
 212 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 narrative, who were sitting behind a table covered 
 with oil-cloth, and encircled by a curtain of green 
 calico, in such sort that the lower part of the per- 
 sons of those sitting behind the table were invisible. 
 On it were wTiting materials, one or two stamps, 
 and materials for making an impression of them 
 on paper in red or black. The men were, however, 
 doing nothing; — apparently not even talking to 
 each other. Against the wall opposite to them, 
 under the window, which was so high as to be 
 above the head of a man, there were two or three 
 rush-bottomed chairs; and these were the only 
 other things in the room besides the tables, and the 
 men sitting behind them. 
 
 The two men stared at him with lacklustre eyes, 
 without speaking, when he entered; and stared 
 still more, when he repeated his demand for the 
 Archbishop. After motioning him to sit on one of 
 the chairs against the wall, they proceeded leisurely 
 to discuss in an under tone the nature of a case 
 e\ddently altogether unprecedented in their ex- 
 perience ; and at last one of them, with visible re- 
 luctance, dragged himself from his chair and saun- 
 tered into an inner room, the door of which he 
 y)resently held open, and signed to Carlo to enter. 
 
 There, in a somewhat better furnished room, 
 sat, also behind a table similarly covered and simi- 
 larly curtained round its legs, a man of a higher
 
 THE archbishop's CHANCERY. 213 
 
 gi'ade of that same class of hybrid lay-clerical 
 functionaries. He somewhat more courteously 
 begged Carlo to be seated, and asked him his busi- 
 ness, and his " casator * 
 
 Carlo showed his card (which evidently pro- 
 duced an inmiediate impression), and said that he 
 ^\^shed to speak to the Archbishop on business of a 
 very particular and urgent description. 
 
 " It is not — ahem — usual, Signor ^larchese — 
 (Carlo, as dei Marches! Brancacci, had a right to 
 the title) — for the Ai'chbishop to receive — ahem — 
 applicants without previous appointment, and with- 
 out knowing the nature of the business they wish 
 to speak on. But I have no doubt that his re- 
 verence the Ai'chbishop's chaplain would see you — 
 (with a bow and a marked emphasis on the word) 
 — and you would probably find that it would serve 
 your piu'pose as well as seeing the Archbishop 
 himself." 
 
 Carlo expressed his willingness to confide his 
 business to the ear of the chaplain, and the official, 
 
 * A phrase which simply means, what was his name ? But it 
 is a more courteous mode of putting that question ; and may be 
 Englished bj^ " To what family do you belong ?" The nature of 
 the flattery intended to be conveyed originally is evident. But this, 
 like all other forms of Italian courtesy, from having been at first a 
 special flattery addressed to the great, then a recognised form proper 
 in speaking to persons of station, has come to the universal mode of 
 asking any man's name.
 
 214 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 who had recommended that course, taking T\ith 
 hmi Brancacci's card, left him for a few minutes, 
 and then came back, saying that the chaplain 
 would see him. 
 
 The man who received him in a small but com- 
 fortably furnished snuggery, occuppng a mezza- 
 mno^ in the palace, and reached from the above- 
 mentioned offices on the ground floor by a small 
 secret stair, was a very different sort of individual 
 from that Archbishop's chaplain who had bullied 
 poor Pietro Varani at the memorable inter\^ew 
 with the Cardinal after the clandestine mamage. 
 This was a young man, not many years Carlo's 
 senior, and dressed as elegantly as the strict rules 
 of ecclesiastical costmne would permit. And 
 mthin those limits there was plenty of room for 
 a considerable display of clerical dandyism. The 
 knee and shoe buckles were gilt, and small. The 
 stockings, perfectly well ch'a■^^^l over the well- 
 shaped leg, were of silk instead of worsted. The 
 shoe was well cut and well fitting ; the professional 
 collar scrupulously clean, the straight-cut frock-coat 
 of fine glossy cloth, and admirably fitting the waist 
 and shoulders; and he wore one or two rings of 
 value on the taper fingers of an exquisitely white 
 hand. 
 
 * A mezzanino is the same thing as what the French call an 
 " entresol."
 
 THE archbishop's CHANCERY. 215 
 
 He rose as Carlo entered the room, and cour- 
 teouslv in^dtincr liim to take a seat, waited the 
 opening of his business with a smile on his face, 
 which seemed to ask what on earth such an one as 
 Carlo could want with him. 
 
 " The fact is, your reverence," said he, encou- 
 raged by the appearance and manner of his inter- 
 locutor to speak more openly than he would other- 
 wise haye been inclined to do — " the fact is, that in 
 my ignorance of all such matters, I imagined that 
 I could see the Ai'chbishop, and ask him at once 
 the favour I desire, and tell him the motives of my 
 asking it. It seems that such is not the case." 
 
 " Wliy, no ! " said the chaplain, relaxing into 
 a still more friendly smile ; " it would never do, 
 you see. The business to be transacted is too 
 much in quantity, and in quality rarely so agree- 
 able as the present" — (with a courteous bow and 
 an extra smile). ^' It is usually my duty to attend, 
 in the first instance, to the applications of those 
 who have business with Monsionore. In what can 
 I serve you ? " 
 
 " Well ! " said Carlo, ^' the application I mshed 
 to make is a strange one ; and to explain and show 
 a reason for it, it is necessar}' to speak of a portion 
 of the pnvate family history of a valued friend of 
 mine. I felt that I might safely confide this to 
 the ears of the Archbishop. And I doubt not
 
 216 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 that it may be equally trusted to tlie discretion of 
 your reverence." 
 
 "My dear Signor Marcliese," said the young 
 chaplain, nodding his head, "we have to become 
 the depositaries of a gi-eat many more strange 
 secrets than you may think for. The honour of 
 many a family is in our keeping — and is, I be- 
 lieve, perfectly safe. In any case, I think I may 
 ventui'e to say that you may confide to me what 
 you had made up your mind to tell to the Ai'ch- 
 bishop." 
 
 " No doubt ! no doubt ! " said Carlo ; " and I 
 shall be most happy if you will kindly give me 
 your advice in the matter. Yom' reverence is 
 doubtless aware of the case of a Superior of a con- 
 vent of Ursuline nuns at Montepulciano, who has 
 been transferred to Florence, under accusations of 
 heresy, or misconduct of some sort ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes ! I know that there is such a case ! 
 The Mother Abbess of Santa Filomena ! She has 
 been sent to a convent out towards Sesto. Some 
 convent quarrel ! It is all stuff and nonsense 
 about heresy, you know," said the chaplain, taking 
 that sort of tone which Roman Catholic eccle- 
 siastics of a certain class are apt to adopt when 
 speaking with educated men of the world, and 
 which seems to imply an understood admission 
 that between themselves all these professional
 
 THE archbishop's CHANCERY. 217 
 
 matters of theirs are, of course, absurd puerilities, 
 but are parts of a comedy necessary to be acted 
 before the eyes of the ^Tilgar; — "all mere silly 
 trash about heresy, or any such big words,'' said 
 the chaplain ; " some stupid provincial quarrel or 
 other I But it will be probably necessaiy to re- 
 move the Abbess from her position, and place her 
 in some other convent. There will be no quieting 
 the silly women else ! It is a pity that the whole 
 lot of them can't be condemned to a twelvemonth 
 of absolute silence ! " added the chaplain, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 " In truth, your reverence is in the right of it," 
 rejoined Carlo, laughing ; " but it is not about the 
 Abbess that I wished to speak at present. The 
 fact is, that a lady with whom the ]\Iarchese ^lala- 
 testa formed a liaison in early life before his mar- 
 riage, and who was, in all probability, placed in 
 some convent by the care of the late Cardinal, the 
 present Marchese's micle, has been lost sight of for 
 many years. The lady in question had a child, 
 who was, during the Cardinal's life, supported and 
 educated by his care ; and it is now desired, if 
 possible, to discover whether the mother is still 
 alive or not. And, curiously enough, it seems that 
 this Abbess, hearing. Heaven knows how I of these 
 particulars, has communicated to some of the 
 family that she can give some information on the
 
 218 GIULIO MALATESTxV. 
 
 subject of this missing lady. Now, all I want, 
 Sign or Abate, is a permission to speak witli the 
 Abbess on the subject on behalf and as a friend of 
 the family." 
 
 It will be observed that Carlo slyly told his story 
 so as to leave on the chaplain's mind the impression 
 that the information sought was desired by the 
 magnates of the family, and not merely by the 
 outcast son of the bond-woman. For he knew 
 enough of the ways of dignified churchmen to be 
 aware that any assistance asked by such an one 
 towards the discovery of a fact which " the family" 
 wished to conceal would have small chance of being 
 granted. 
 
 The chaplain, however, supposing that he was 
 obliging the Marchese Malatesta, and quite re- 
 assured by the name, and connexions, and social 
 position of Brancacci, said : 
 
 " Oh, there will be no difficulty about that ! 
 And I should not be a bit surprised if the old lady 
 were able to help you in your search. Nuns are 
 terrible gossips. Bless you ! they know all sorts 
 of things; — pick up facts as magpies do missing 
 trifles, and hide them away as carefully." 
 
 " Can your reverence complete yom' kindness 
 by procm'ing me the order at once ? " asked 
 Carlo. 
 
 " I dare say I can," replied the obliging chaplain.
 
 THE archbishop's CHANCERY. 219 
 
 " I can Amte it in two minutes. But it must have 
 the Archbishop's signature. I dare say I can get 
 him to sign it at once, though his time for doing 
 such things is an earlier horn- of the morning. But 
 he is very Idnd, and if I tell him that time is 
 m'gent " 
 
 "I should be so much obliged to you!" said 
 Carloj eagerly, in chsmay at the idea of losing 
 another f our-and-twenty hours. If he had known 
 how many applicants, unfortunate enough to have 
 any business to transact with that Archiepiscopal 
 " Chanceiy," are compelled to lose, not hom's or 
 days, but weeks and months, in cases when days 
 are of gTeater importance than they were to him, 
 how many weary hours are passed sitting on those 
 miserable chairs against the dank wall of that 
 miserable outer office, to be ended by an apparently 
 altogether arbitrary and meaningless intimation 
 that the hapless and despairing suitors " must 
 return again another day," he would have been 
 more thankful for the chaplain's alacrity, or have 
 estimated more highly the advantages of being 
 " L'illustrissimo Signor Carlo dei Marchesi Bran- 
 cacci." 
 
 The chaplain ^\Tote the order, as he had said, in 
 two minutes ; and then, desmng his visitor to wait a 
 few moments, left the room by a different door from 
 that opening on the secret stair, by which Carlo
 
 220 GIULTO MALATESTA. 
 
 had reached it, and in a veiy short time brought 
 back the required signature. 
 
 " There ! Signor Marchese ; it is all right. By- 
 the-by," added the chaplain, "you know, of 
 course — or rather," he added, with a laugh and a 
 look that approached curiously near to a wink 
 without absolutely being one, " of coui'se you doiit 
 know enough of the ways of nunneries to be 
 aware, that one of the sisterhood of the house will 
 haye to be present at your interyiew with the Ab- 
 bess. But there are two Avays of being present 
 at an interview. And I will write a line to the 
 Superior of the house, which will preyent you from 
 being annoyed by any eayes-dropping. I am glad 
 I thought of it." 
 
 Carlo reiterated his acknowledgments ; and the 
 chaplain scribbled a little note to the Superior, 
 which he enclosed in a huge square enyelope, and 
 sealed with a huge official seal. 
 
 " I haye \ATitten the order generally," added the 
 chaplain, " so that if you find it necessary to 
 repeat your \asit, you can do so without any fresh 
 application here. But perhaps you will let me 
 hear the upshot of the business, for I take an 
 interest in it. The routine of our ordinaiy affairs 
 here is sufficiently uninteresting " 
 
 Carlo promised that he would return and tell 
 the obliging chaplain the whole story as soon as he
 
 THE archbishop's CHANCERY. 221 
 
 became acquainted with it ; thinking it natural 
 enough that curiosity should be excited by so 
 strange a romance, and never dreaming that the 
 reverend gentleman's only real motive was the cul- 
 tivation of an acquamtance with himself. 
 
 Again thanking the chaplain for his kindness, 
 he was dismissed by him tlu'ough a door which led 
 him by two or three other rooms to the main stair- 
 case of the palace ; so that he had not to return 
 through the miserable offices on the ground floor. 
 
 " AYhen next you give me the pleasiu-e of seeing 
 you," said the chaplain, as he parted .from him, 
 " ask for me by name, and you mil be shown in by 
 this road ; the other is for other purposes. Addio, 
 Signor Marchese ! " 
 
 Carlo lost not a minute, as soon as he was out- 
 side of the Archiepiscopal palace, in jumping into 
 a fiacre, and telling the driver to make the best of 
 his way out of the Porta di Prato, and along the 
 road towards Sesto.
 
 9^^-7 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CARLO BRANCACCI AND THE ABBESS. 
 
 Carlo may be excused for not giving all the 
 attention it deserved to the exceeding beauty of 
 the drive, about half the distance to Sesto — the 
 sixth milestone on the road to the little city of 
 Prato — which took him to the convent he was in 
 quest of. The road Ipng first along the lowest 
 slopes of the villa-studded hill of Fiesole, and then 
 creeping close at the foot of the sterner, but still 
 beautiful, Monte Morello, has beauties of no ordi- 
 nary kind. " Monte ^lorello, the dark mountain," 
 as the Florentines call it, is no longer such when 
 the rays of an afternoon Italian smi are lighting up 
 the folds in its huge flank. It is then a purple — a 
 rose-coloured — a violet-coloured — an amber moun- 
 tain ; for a hazy bloom of all these colours melting
 
 CARLO BRANCACCI AND THE ABBESS. 2*23 
 
 into each other hes upon it. The road to Sesto is 
 just sufficiently raised above the irrigated flat of 
 the broad and fertile valley to show the whole of 
 its variegated green surface to the traveller, and 
 to give him the panorama of the Cascine woods, 
 and the darker sides and tops of the lower range of 
 hills, which shut in the valley of the Arno to the 
 southward. 
 
 The Italians are in general very much less in- 
 sensible to landscape beauty than the French, 
 especially to the charm of colour in scenery ; and 
 at another time Carlo would not have failed to 
 appreciate the beauties of his afternoon diive. But 
 he was, on the occasion in question, too anxious 
 about his coming inter^-iew with the Abbess to 
 have any thoughts for the scene around him. He 
 was anxious on his friend's account about the result 
 of his quest ; but he was also — which was strange 
 for Carlo Brancacci, and very milike his usual self 
 — a little nervous about his interview. He had 
 never spoken with, or even seen an Abbess in his 
 life. He was conscious of beino; whollv ifrnorant 
 of the proper mode of addressing her, and beha^dng 
 towards her. His embarrassment was increased by 
 the knowledge that she was an Abbess under a 
 cloud. For the first time in his life he felt shy and 
 diffident. And he spent the entire time during 
 which his Httle journey lasted in tr^dng to figure
 
 224 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 to himself what the Abbess would say to him, and 
 what he should say in return. 
 
 A little less than an hour sufficed to brincr him 
 to the door of the convent — a little building of very 
 humble pretensions attached to a picturesquely- 
 situated church, the raised terrace on the hill-side 
 in front of which, shaded by a group of magnificent 
 cypresses, made it a marked object, as seen from 
 the valley below. A couple of old women were 
 sunning themselves in the afternoon warmth on 
 this exquisitely situated little terrace in front of the 
 open door of the church ; the lamp at the farther 
 end of which, burning before the altar, glimmered 
 in contrast with the glory of heaven's light outside, 
 like the pale lamp in the hand of a miner, seen at 
 the far end of a long subterranean gallery. The 
 two old crones, who were attracted to the spot pro- 
 bably by some half unconscious sensation of the 
 beauty of it, mingled with an equally indefinite 
 idea that some advantage of a spiritual kind ac- 
 crued to them from passing their time in the 
 vicinity of the open church, were roused from their 
 half-sleep to wide-awake astonishment at the extra- 
 ordinary sight of a carriage from the city drawing 
 up at the door of that remote little religious house ; 
 and forthwith came hobbling uj) to beg of the 
 stranger. The old women were not professional 
 mendicants, and had not come there with the
 
 CARLO BRAXCACCI AXD THE ABBESS. 225 
 
 slightest intention of begging ; where indeed they 
 might have come every day in the year without 
 ever seeing a soul of whom they would have 
 dreamed of asking alms. But a Tuscan peasant, 
 in the neighbourhood of Florence especially, is 
 ever unhappily ready to assume the character of a 
 beggar at the shortest notice, on the sight of a 
 stranger. And Carlo, hke a genuine Tuscan of 
 the better class, put an infinitesimal coin into the 
 hand of each — a fraction of a farthing — with 
 which they hobbled off perfectly contented. 
 
 It seemed to Carlo an immense time after he 
 had pulled the little iron ring attached to a chain, 
 wliich passed through a door of the building, niched 
 into a corner between it and the contiguous chui'ch, 
 before any notice was taken of his smnmons. Yet 
 he had pulled it, not as an Englishman pulls a bell, 
 wdth one single pull, but as Tuscans are wont to 
 do, with three or four pulls one after the other ; 
 not because they are impatient, but because they 
 deem such an application of force necessaiy to 
 cause a bell to ring. 
 
 At last, a little door about five inches square, cut 
 in the panel of the large door was opened, and dis- 
 closed a little iron grating behind it — for the aper- 
 ture of five inches square was deemed. Heaven 
 only knows why ! too large to be left wholly un- 
 protected. And behind the gratmg a pair of black 
 
 VOL. in. Q
 
 226 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 eyes micler shaggy grey eyebrows, surmounted by 
 a snow-white hood — (nuns are generally as clean 
 as monks are the reverse) — gleamed tlirough the 
 gratmg, and a harsh voice demanded the visitor's 
 business. 
 
 Carlo managing so to fold the two papers of 
 which he was the bearer — the Archbishop's order, 
 and the chaplain's letter to the Superior — as to 
 enable him to thrust them between the bars of the 
 grating, requested that they might be given to the 
 head of the house. And the old portress, ha™g 
 eyed him with extreme cm^iosity and sm-prise, bade 
 him wait a few minutes where he was, and she 
 would bring him an answer. 
 
 Again Carlo's midisciplined patience was some- 
 what severely tried, and he began to imagine that 
 there must be something infonnal or wrong in 
 some way about the order he had presented. At 
 last, however, he heard a \^^thcba^^^ng of bolts on 
 the inner side of the door, which was presently 
 opened, and he was bidden by the same harsh 
 voice which had before spoken to him to enter and 
 follow her. 
 
 She carefully closed, locked, and re-bolted the 
 small but massive round-headed door behind him ; 
 and then preceded him along a naiTow passage 
 between spotless white-washed walls, tinkling from 
 time to time a little hand-bell wliich she earned.
 
 CARLO BRANCACCI AND THE ABBESS. 227 
 
 in order to warn the inmates of the house to keep 
 themselves out of the way and out of the sight of 
 the male stranger. She opened a door at the 
 farther end of the passage, and ushered him into 
 a cheerful-looking, but almost unfurnished square 
 room, of rather large size. It was cheerful by 
 reason of two large Avindows, which opened on a 
 neat and well-kept garden, full of sunshine and 
 bright flowers. But within, there was little enough 
 that was agreeable to the eyes. The walls were 
 white-washed like those of the passage, and Avere 
 huno; with some half dozen colom'ed enoTavino;s of 
 the vilest description in mean frames, representing 
 scenes from the life of the Vu'gin Mary. Around 
 these bare-looking walls were ranged a few rush- 
 bottomed chairs, and in the middle of the room 
 was a plain square deal table, mth an inkstand, 
 a* pen, and a sand dish on it. There was no 
 other article in the room ; no fire-place ; and the 
 floor was of naked, but perfectly clean-swept 
 bricks. 
 
 Carlo approached one of the windows, and re- 
 galed his eye with the sunny peacfulness of the 
 pretty scene beneath it. But as before five mi- 
 nutes had elapsed he had tired of the occupation, 
 and was again impatient, it seems probable enough 
 that those whose only outlook for long years was 
 this same peaceful garden, might cease to appre- 
 ^ Q2
 
 228 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 ciate the poetry of tlie scene, and become not a 
 little sick of the peacefulness of it. 
 
 At last the door opened and two figures entered. 
 It was impossible for Carlo to doubt for an instant 
 which of the two was the Abbess, even if in retiu'n 
 for his grsive obeisance the taller and youno-er 
 
 O f CD 
 
 woman had not given him the formal benedictoiy 
 fino-er-flourish, which indicated that she had not 
 yet at least been deposed from her ecclesiastical 
 rank. The other woman, the older of the two, im- 
 mediately took a chair, and placing it near the 
 door by which they had entered, rested her bent 
 knees against the front part of the seat, and bend- 
 inc do^^•n her face and head over the back of it, 
 became to all appearance entirely immersed in the 
 telling of her beads. 
 
 The Abbess, stepping across the room not with- 
 out some stateliness of manner to the mndow at 
 the side farthest from the door, motioned to Carlo 
 to place chairs close to it. 
 
 " Reverenda Madre,^ said Carlo, who remained 
 stanchng till the Abbess made a sign to him to be 
 seated ; " Reverenda Madre, I am here as the par- 
 ticular and intimate friend of Signor Giulio ]\Iala- 
 testa." (The Abbess gave a slight start ; and any 
 one who had been more observant of the person he 
 was talking Avith, and less occupied ^\{ih. thinking 
 of what he had to say himself than Carlo, would 
 have noticed that her pale cheek was overspread
 
 CARLO BRANCACCI AND THE ABBESS. 229 
 
 for a minute by a delicate flush.) " We were com- 
 rades at Pisa, and— and— I am commissioned— 
 that is to say, lie desires me to tell your maternity, 
 that— in short, that you can say to me freely any- 
 thing that concerns him." 
 
 "May I ask of you, my son, why, if it is the 
 wish of Signor Giulio Malatesta to communicate 
 with me, he prefers to send a friend rather than to 
 come hither himself r' rephed the Abbess, spealdng 
 in a low and singularly sweet tone of voice. 
 
 " Signora," said Carlo — " pardon me, mia Madre, 
 I would say ; that is explained more easily than 
 satisfactorily. It is possible that your maternity 
 may have heard, that on the occasion of the anni- 
 versaiy of the battle of Curtatone, there was some 
 difficulty between the police and the people. 
 Giulio, who had amved in Florence only that 
 morning, was mifortunately aiTested, together with 
 several others, in the chm'ch of Santa Croce. He 
 was guilty of no offence against the government, 
 and will, doubtless, very shortly be set at liberty. 
 Other friends are busy in taking care that such 
 shall be the case. But, in the mean time, he is 
 unable to wait on your maternity." 
 
 " Perhaps you are, at least in some degi'ee, ac- 
 quainted with the natm-e of the subject on which 
 he wished to speak with me? " said the Abbess, in 
 the same low, sweet tones. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " returned Carlo, beginning to feel
 
 230 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 more at his ease, and speaking more in liis natural 
 manner ; " I know all about it. I may say, I be- 
 lieve, that Giulio honours me A^ith his entii'e con- 
 fidence." 
 
 The Abbess looked up at him for an instant 
 with more attention than she had yet bestowed on 
 him, and then with a little gi'acious bow, awaited 
 his further explanations. 
 
 ^' The fact is," continued Carlo, ^^ that some time 
 since, it was intimated to my friend," — and here 
 Carlo became again embaiTassed, not knowing how 
 far he might be doing mischief by compromising 
 Stella as the author of the '' intimation," " in a 
 letter from — from a friend ;" he went on hesi- 
 tating — 
 
 — '^ Yes I " interrupted the Abbess, '' by a letter 
 
 from the Contessina Stella Altamari ^" 
 
 '' Exactly so, your maternity ! " continued Carlo, 
 with a bow and a smile, and now feeling that he 
 was on safe ground ; " from the Contessina Stella 
 Altamari ; it was intunated to him in a letter from 
 the Contessina Stella, that it was veiy probable 
 that your maternity might be able to afford my 
 friend Malatesta important information regarding 
 a matter that has long been one of great anxiety 
 to him — the discovery of his mother. [May I ask 
 your maternity," he continued, after a pause, "if 
 you are aware of the circumstances of my friend 
 Malatesta's birth ? "
 
 CARLO BRANCACCI AND THE ABBESS. 231 
 
 " I am not unacquainted with those cu'cum- 
 stances/' rephed the Abbess, speaking in a still 
 lower tone than before, and casting down her eyes 
 to the floor. 
 
 " You ^\'ill be aware, then," continued Carlo, 
 "that it is the dearest wish of Giulio's heart to 
 find the unfortunate mother w^hom he lost in in- 
 fancy?" 
 
 "Nay, Signore !" said the Abbess, forgetting in 
 her emotion, and in the extra-conventual natm^e of 
 the subject, the mode of address prescribed by the 
 ecclesiastical etiquette of her position, " my know- 
 ledge of the circumstances of his birth does not 
 include any knowledge of his present f eelmgs and 
 "s^^shes." 
 
 " Surely," said Carlo, ^\dth some surprise in his 
 voice, " the one follows from the other. Of course 
 he is very anxious, — or whether it is of course or 
 not, he is very anxious to find his mother, — veri/ 
 anxious ; it is the gi'eat anxiety of his life." 
 
 "' Ai'e you aware, Signore, since you have, as you 
 say, been so long and so intimately liis friend, 
 whether he has long felt the anxiety you speak 
 of ? " said the Abbess, still speaking hardly above a 
 whisper, and, as it seemed. Carlo fancied ^^^th sur- 
 prise, almost tremulously. 
 
 " Unquestionably as long as I have known him, 
 it has been his great desu'e. But since his position 
 has become changed, since, as I may say, he has
 
 232 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 a position, and a good one in the world, he is na- 
 turally still more desirous than ever to find his 
 mother, to whom he might now offer a support 
 and comfort, which, before he had made a place 
 for himself in the world, he could not have offered 
 to her." 
 
 " It is, however, a long time — several months — 
 since the communication you have alluded to was 
 made to him," said the Abbess, still not looking up 
 from the floor. 
 
 " Yes ! In the first place it seems not to have 
 reached him till a long time after it was written. 
 And then business of a veiy important nature, — 
 the upshot of which, I may say, makes it more 
 desirable than ever that he should discover his 
 mother, — required his immediate presence in the 
 south of France." 
 
 The Abbess here lifted her eyes for an instant, 
 and shot one sharp inquiring glance into Carlo's 
 face ; but finding nothing there but calm business- 
 like attention to what he was saying, she dropped 
 her eyes again to the floor while he continued. 
 
 " As soon as ever he returned from that journey, 
 he hastened to Montepulciano in the hope of finding 
 yom- maternity there. Failing in that hope he 
 followed you to Florence, where, within a few 
 hours of his amval, he was unfortunately arrested 
 and thrown into prison, as I have already said ;
 
 CARLO BRA^ICACCI AND THE ABBESS. 233 
 
 and being thus incapacitated from following up 
 the inquiry he has so much at heart himself, his 
 first thought was to depute me to do so for him. 
 I, on my part, may certainly claim to have lost no 
 time. I took immediate steps to ascertain the 
 place of your maternity's present residence. 
 Having succeeded in that, I went at once to the 
 chaplain of the Archbishop, and obtained from 
 him the order — dated not two hours ago — which 
 has procured for me the advantage of the present 
 interview." 
 
 "I have every reason to be grateful to you, 
 Signore, for your zealous activity," murmured the 
 Abbess. 
 
 " Say, rather, that Giulio may be satisfied ^\-itll 
 my care for his interests," replied Carlo somewhat 
 surprised ; " though doubtless," he added, ^^ it will 
 be a gratification to your maternity to contribute 
 to a result which will make the happiness of a 
 mother and her son." 
 
 " But that is just the point which demands 
 mature and serious consideration," said tlie Abbess, 
 looking up, and speaking with more decision and 
 strength of voice than she had done previously. 
 
 ^' How so ? " said Carlo in a voice of surj^rise. 
 ^^What is the point to which your maternity 
 refers?" 
 
 " Would it be a result contributing to the happi-
 
 234 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 ness of your friend, if we were to succeed in finding 
 tliis lost mother ? I am glad, Signore, to have an 
 opportunity of speaking with a judicious and tried 
 friend of Signore Malatesta on this point before 
 communicating on the subject with him himself. 
 I put it to you, as his friend, and as a man knowing 
 more of the world and its ways than a poor recluse 
 can pretend to do, whether it would be for the 
 advantage of Signore Giulio Malatesta to discover 
 a mother lost under such circmnstances. I put it 
 to 3^our serious consideration, not only the question 
 whether it would be well, as regards his position in 
 the world, to find a mother who must bring dis- 
 grace with her when found " 
 
 " But allow me to observ'e " said Carlo. 
 
 " Excuse me, Signore," interrupted the Abbess, 
 in her turn, with a com'teous but slightly authori- 
 tative wave of her slio-ht and eleo-ant white hand ; 
 " excuse me, if I beg you to alloAv me to finish 
 what I was saying. I have put the questions, I 
 was putting to you, very earnestly before myself — 
 a poor recluse, necessarily veiy ignorant of the 
 world, and of the motives and feelings that rule 
 men in it — and I shall be tnily glad to have the 
 mature opinion of a man of the world, and a de- 
 voted friend of Signore Malatesta on the subject. 
 I was about to ask of your judgment, whether it 
 would be advantageous to Giulio Malatesta to
 
 CARLO BKAXCACCI AXD THE ABBESS. 235 
 
 discover a mother wlio must bring disgrace \\'ith 
 her- " 
 
 Carlo again opened his mouth to speak^ but 
 remamed silent in obedience to a gestm-e of the 
 Abbess. 
 
 — " And further, whether m a strictly moral 
 point of view it would be good for him to make 
 such a discover}' ; — whether the good feeling 
 towards that miknown mother, with which he is 
 now animated, could be trusted to contmue towards 
 a mother known only as a source of pain and 
 trouble and disgrace; — whether it might not be 
 safer for the happiness, and even for the moral 
 nature of both these persons, that they should 
 remain unknown to each other? I desire, I say, 
 your best attention and well-considered opinion on 
 these points. We must take care, in such a case 
 as this, that we do not bring about evil instead of 
 good." 
 
 " But had not these considerations occurred to, 
 and been decided by your maternity, before you 
 communicated in the first instance to my friend 
 the hopes you held out to him," asked Carlo. 
 
 " Doubtless they had occun-ed to me — pur 
 troppo /" said the Abbess with a deep sigh. 
 " When you have reached my yeai's, my son, you 
 \\ill probably be aware that when one doubts 
 greatly, one may be led to take a step towards
 
 236 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 acting, in one sense, without being definitively and 
 satisfactorily convinced that the opposite may not 
 be after all the wisest. I have doubted very 
 greatly in this matter. I have no objection to tell 
 yon that the communication made to Signer Mala- 
 testa was made very much in accordance with the 
 m'gent desire of the lady who wrote to him, as you 
 have mentioned. I had the advantage of her 
 opinion on the subject — the opinion of a pure and 
 unsulhed heart at all events, if not of a much 
 experienced head, and of one as devotedly the 
 friend of Signer Malatesta as yourself. And now 
 I desire, as I have said, to have the benefit of your 
 counsel on a point which requires so much circum- 
 spection." 
 
 " Your maternity does my poor judgment far 
 too much honour to imagine that it is worth the 
 having," returned Carlo ; " I have never had the 
 happiness of knowing a mother myself ! But my 
 notion would be all for finding her if she was 
 above ground, let her be who she might, and what 
 she might! And that is the feeling of Giulio. 
 That would be his feeling, let what would be his 
 position, whether he was the Marchese Malatesta 
 with a big estate, or a poor student at Pisa with 
 nothing at all, or a soldier of fortune with a good 
 sword and good prospects, as he is now ! In any 
 case it is a sorrow and a bitterness to him to think
 
 CARLO BRAXCACCI AND THE ABBESS. 237 
 
 that there is somewhere a poor mother with no 
 son's love to comfort her ! Lord bless you — I beg 
 your maternity's pardon," said Carlo, thinking that 
 such a colloquialism might very likely sound im- 
 proper to ecclesiastical ears, — " I only meant to 
 say that I know very well what he feels ; he wants 
 to have a mother's love, and to give a mother his 
 love. And as to her share in the matter, I can 
 only say that if you knew Giulio as I know him, 
 you would feel it to be such a cruelty as you 
 would not wish to be guilty of, to stand in the way 
 of her recovering such a son ! Be she who she 
 may, or what she may, she may be proud and 
 
 thankful to be the mother of Giulio ! But " 
 
 continued Carlo, in a voice of crescendo eagerness, 
 — and then he suddenly stopped. 
 
 "But what?" asked the Abbess, looking up 
 quickly, with a sort of alarmed expression in her 
 eye. 
 
 " But 1 was going to say 1 was thinking," 
 
 stammered Carlo, evidently doubtful and puzzled, 
 " I was going to tell your maternity, in short, that 
 certain facts, which have recently come to my 
 
 friend's knowledge are such as are of a natm-e to 
 
 make it far more desirable than ever far more 
 
 desh-able than it was before, that Giulio should 
 succeed in discovering his mother." 
 
 '^Indeed!" said the Abbess, looking up with a
 
 238 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 puzzled expression. " May I ask, Signore, if you 
 are acquainted with the nature of the circum- 
 stances vou alhide to ? " 
 
 Carlo paused for awhile before answering her, 
 plunged apparently in anxious thought. 
 
 " Frankly, then, Madre mia^^ he said at length, 
 "I do know all about the circumstances in question. 
 And my hesitation was caused by doubting whether 
 I ought to tell them to you, or to leave them to be 
 told by Giulio himself. I think the last will be 
 best. He mil, I trust and believe, be at liberty 
 very soon ; and perhaps I shall act more rightly in 
 adhering strictly to the terms of my commission, 
 wliich was to entreat your maternity to communi- 
 cate to me the information you may have it in yoiu' 
 power to bestow. Doubtless Giulio will do himself 
 the honour of waiting on you, and can then act as 
 he may think fit about his ova\ secrets ; they are 
 family secrets of great importance. But I may 
 say that the facts to which I am alluding make it 
 very clearly and unmistakably far more desirable 
 than CA'er, as I have said already, that the missinfj 
 lady should be found. I may add that the facts 
 which have recently been brought to light are of a 
 nature entirely favoui'able and agreeable both to 
 her and to him." 
 
 It A^'as now the tm'u of the Abbess to pause for 
 awhile in meditation. She remained for a few
 
 CARLO BEAXCACCI AND THE ABBESS. 239 
 
 minutes absorbed in deep tliought ; and then look- 
 ing up mtli a cleared but almost solemn expression 
 of countenance, slie said : 
 
 " I am utterly at a loss to guess what can be the 
 nature of the facts you have been speaking of. I 
 doubt not that you are exercising a sound discretion 
 in lea^-ino; it to vom' friend to commmiicate them 
 to me or to A^ithhold them, as he may see fit. But 
 the manner, in which you have spoken of Giulio 
 ]\Ialatesta, the warm regard you entertain for him, 
 and the entire confidence he reposes in you, as 
 eyidenced by his sending you hither to me, have 
 determined me to confide to you, Giulio's friend, 
 the fact which I have so long and painfully doubted 
 whether I should do well to communicate to him- 
 self. AATien I have done so, you ^ill be better 
 able to judge whether it A^dll be well done to tell 
 the secret to him. And I implore of you, if, when 
 you shall know who and what Giulio JSIalatesta's 
 mother is, it should seem to you less desirable, than 
 you may now think it, that the fact should be told 
 to him, you will use your discretion as a friend to 
 conceal it from him. The mother of Giulio Ma- 
 latesta," she went on, speaking \\4th a kind of 
 breathless fevered rapidity, but still in the low 
 tone, which she had used during most of the con- 
 versation, — "the mother of Giulio Malatesta is a 
 veiled nun, the inmate of a cloister for more than
 
 240 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 twenty years ; — a deposed and disgraced Abbess ; 
 — even she who is now speaking to you !" 
 
 " Good God !" exclaimed Carlo, in a voice which 
 made the kneeling and probably sleeping nun at 
 the farther corner of the room start, and stare at 
 him with an angry scowd, before she recomposed 
 herself in her previous position. 
 
 " It is even so !" said the Abbess, in a sad voice 
 of deep humility. ^' Again I ask you, if you still 
 think it right and wise to assist your friend to dis- 
 cover such a mother ? " 
 
 But Carlo seemed hardly to be listening to wh^t 
 she said. He was pacing up and dowai before the 
 window, near which they had been sitting, three 
 steps, one way and three the other, biting his 
 thumb-nail w^ith his eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 "I have a good mind!" he muttered — "I have 
 a good mind to tell her ! P^r Bacco ! die cosa, die 
 cosa I * But it woukl be unfair to him ! It would 
 be cruel to him ! No ! I will say nothing ! Ecco, 
 Signora !" he said turning to the Abbess, who sat 
 almost visibly trembling on her chair, as waiting 
 for her doom ; — " I beg pardon, I mean to say, 
 your maternity, my opinion is that it is absolutely 
 necessary, and your bounden duty (excuse me for 
 the expression) to tell Giulio what you have told 
 me at the earliest possible opportunity. Depend on 
 
 * " What a piece of business !"
 
 CAELO BRANCACCI AND THE ABBESS. 241 
 
 me for making that opportunity with as httle delay 
 as may be. I will not tell him, for the same reason 
 that I \^'ill not tell you now, what he T\ill have to 
 hear from you when he comes ; — because I ^N-ill 
 not take the bloom off the most exquisite pleasure 
 that either of you have ever known ! Addio, 
 Signora ! — Reverend Mother, I mean ! I must 
 hasten back to Florence ! Will your maternity tell 
 the old woman to let me out ? " 
 
 As soon as Carlo found himself, ha\'ing mth 
 much difficulty refrained from swearing at the old 
 portress for her slowness, once more outside the 
 gate, he jumped into his fiacre, roughly waked the 
 sleeping driver, and told him if he wanted double 
 fare to diive like mad to Florence. 
 
 " Your illustrious lordship sees that "wind blow- 
 ing off the top of Monte Morello toward the 
 Duomo ? " said the man, pointing ^^dth his whip as 
 he spoke ; " well, we'll catch it, and be in Florence 
 first !" 
 
 So saying he leisurely mounted liis box, and 
 with a whole salvo of cracks of his whip started off 
 at a gallop of seven miles an hour, which reduced 
 itself to about four within a couple of hundi'ed 
 yards. 
 
 VOL. III.
 
 242 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 carlo's supper. 
 
 The magnificent range of palaces and terrace 
 street forming tlie new Lung' Arno, and extend- 
 ing from the foot of the Ponte alia Carraia to the 
 entrance of the Cascine, chd not exist in 1851. 
 Nor was there any such possibility of passing from 
 the handsomest part of the city directly to the well- 
 watered avenues and shady diives of the Cascine, 
 without any intervening morsel of vulgar dusty 
 road, as is now provided for the frequenters of the 
 Florentine Rotten-row by the handsome new gate- 
 way which leads directly from the extremity of the 
 Lung' Arno to the confines of the Cascine. Very 
 few fair equestrians frequented the soft rides among 
 the woods, or showed themselves amid the throng 
 of carriages on the jnazzetta in those days in com- 
 parison with the number that may now be seen
 
 carlo's supper. 243 
 
 there. Aiid all the loves of hats and bonnets in 
 the press of carnages inconveniently jostling each 
 other in the narrow gangway of the Porta a Prato 
 had to be exposed to a sprinkling of dust from the 
 Prato road before they reached their exhibition 
 place. And worse still was the inconvenience of the 
 retui-n through that same archway. For all the 
 world left the Cascine at the same time. Every- 
 one wanted to go home to dinner. And there would 
 often be a string of carriages extending from the 
 gate half way to the Cascine waiting to get into the 
 city. Then fumed the Englishman, and sat placidly 
 patient the Tuscan ; and many a dinner was spoiled 
 by waiting for belated guests. 
 
 Nous avons cliangt tout cela ! There is no such 
 scene at the Porta a Prato in these days. But 
 Carlo Brancacci, returning from the convent on the 
 Sesto road, got to the city gate just as the world 
 was returning from the Cascine, and the gate was 
 blocked by a line of carriages for the next half 
 hour ! For once, Tuscan as he was, Carlo was im- 
 patient. The delay was very vexatious. In vain 
 he stood up in the dusty ramshackle little open 
 carriage, and urged the driver to attempt to cut in 
 to the file of carriages. The dirty little fiacre was 
 obhged to await its turn ; and Carlo the while was 
 exposed to a fire of questions and bantering from 
 acquaintances in more aristocratic veliicles. 
 r2
 
 244 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " What ! Brancacci ! where in the world do you 
 come from?" 
 
 " Oh, Carlo ! If I had any little private affair 
 at Campi,* I would not choose just this hour of the 
 twenty-four for coming back ! " 
 
 " Blrhante ! t Of course he chooses his time on 
 purpose to be seen !" 
 
 "What are you in such a \\\xnj about, old 
 fellow?" 
 
 " I say, Carlo, you'll have to pay at the gate on 
 all that dust. You can't take in such an unreason- 
 ably large quantity free !" 
 
 In general, Brancacci w^ould have been quite 
 ready to hold his own, and give back as good as 
 he got in a wordy war of this kind. But upon the 
 present occasion he was too much occupied with 
 graver interests and too impatient, to enter into the 
 spirit of it. 
 
 " I say, Nandino," he called out to a young man 
 who was alone in a handsome carriage, " just tell 
 your man to let me pass, there is a good fellow ! I 
 am really in a huiTy, on business of importance. I 
 will tell you, w^hen I see you." 
 
 And the Conte Ferdinando Villamarina, thus 
 appealed to, lazily called out to his coachman to 
 let Signore Brancacci pass, saying to the latter as 
 
 * A large village in the direction of Prato, inhabited mainly by 
 straw-plaiters. f Rogue.
 
 carlo's supper. 245 ' 
 
 lie did so, " not that I believe a word about your 
 business being of any greater importance than }our 
 dinner at the avuncular table. It is true, you 
 will need a long time washing ! Cut along with 
 you!" 
 
 And Carlo having thus by favour avoided losing 
 more than a quarter of an houi', di'ove directly to 
 the Murate ; — to leani there that Giulio !Malatesta 
 had left the prison an hour previously, having been 
 liberated by an order from the minister of state. 
 
 Getting once more, therefore, into his dust- 
 begrimed shandrydan, Carlo drove to the palazzo 
 in the Via Larga, where he was in time to catch 
 his uncle before he went out to dinner. 
 
 " So you have succeeded I find ! I have just 
 been to the Murate and found that tlie bird had 
 flown. It is so good of you to have lost no time ! 
 Was there any difficulty about it ? " 
 
 " Not the least in the world ! How should 
 there be ? Of course directly I told the minister 
 (a slight emphasis on the I) how the matter stood, 
 he said he was sorry- for the accident, and sent an 
 order to the prison instantly. I would have gone 
 myself to him at the Murate, but that I was 
 obhged to be at the Cascine ! " 
 
 " Of course ! Plcice aux dames I " said his 
 nephew with a twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " But where on earth have you been ? Doing
 
 246 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 the work of a street-sweeper one would say to look 
 at you." 
 
 " Yes ! I have collected a curious assortment of 
 specimens of the soil of the Grand-Ducal terri- 
 tory. I have been half-way to Sesto, to a convent, 
 where I have made another discovery — and such 
 a discovery ! I never found out anything in my 
 life before, and now two such discoveries in two 
 days ! I shall offer myself as head of the secret 
 police department, I think ! " 
 
 " Ay ! That is what you are specially fitted 
 for, no doubt. Pray what is the new mystery ? " 
 
 " I have found our friend Malatesta's mother ; 
 the lady who you know ^" 
 
 " You don't mean it ! I told you, you remem- 
 ber, that she would be soon found ! Well ! and 
 who and what was she ? " 
 
 " I know nothing about who she ivas. She is 
 the Abbess of the Convent of Montepulciano, to 
 which the Contessina Stella was sent ! And now 
 she has been brouMit to Florence about some 
 stupid convent quarrel or other. The Archbishop's 
 chaplain told me all about it !" 
 
 " The Archbishop's chaplain told you ! What, 
 is he one of your fiiends too ? I suppose you and 
 the Archbishop are old cronies ? " 
 
 " Not exactly ! You see, when the Contessina 
 Stella wrote to Giulio that the Superior of her
 
 carlo's supper. 247 
 
 house could very likely give' him some information 
 about liis mother, it was mainly her doing. Some- 
 how or other it seems the old lady let out the 
 secret to Stella. ]\Iost likely the Contessina began 
 by making the Abbess her confidant about her love 
 affair. She is just the woman for a girl to make a 
 confidant in — a channing woman I should say, 
 though she is an Abbess ! Then the truth slipped 
 out, and by the Superior's ovm account it was 
 mainly by the Signorina Stella's persuasion that 
 she permitted her to write in that mysterious 
 manner to Giulio." 
 
 "^Tiynot tell him the plain fact at once?" 
 asked the ^larchese Florimond. 
 
 " Well ! I think I can understand why," repHed 
 Carlo, " but then I have talked to her and you 
 have not. She was afraid — afraid of doing more 
 harm than good in the world by the discovery — 
 afraid, poor soul, that when he knew her position, 
 he might repent having found her — afraid of 
 ever}'thing, as a poor nen'ous woman, first half- 
 killed with trouble, and then shut up in a cloister 
 for twenty years may well be I " 
 
 " And how did you get tlie tiTith from her ? " 
 inquired the Marchese. 
 
 " Well I upon my word I hardly know I She 
 saw I was a near friend to Giulio ; and then she 
 did not know what to do and caught at any help,
 
 248 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 as people will when they are between hawk and 
 buzzard ; — said that / should consider wdiether it 
 was best to tell him or keep it to myself ! " 
 
 " But did you tell her your secret 1 " asked his 
 imcle. 
 
 " Not a word ! I was on the point of doing so ! 
 It was as much as I could do to refrain from let- 
 tincr it all out. But I thoucrht it was not fair to 
 Giulio to do so. I thought he ought to tell her 
 himself. And, besides, it was better for me to 
 stick to my commission. I had, of course, no per- 
 mission to tell anything." 
 
 " Of course not ! he could not guess that you 
 were going to see his mother," remarked the Mar- 
 chese. 
 
 "I thought it best, however, to say nothing; 
 and I am glad I refrained, specially as he is now 
 at liberty and may go himself. I mean to do the 
 same with regard to her, I will leave her to tell 
 her secret herself." 
 
 " What shall you tell him as the result of your 
 visit, then ? " 
 
 ^^That it is perfectly true that the Abbess knows 
 his mother, and can at once bring him and her 
 together — that he has nothing to do but to go to 
 her and receive the information she has to give." 
 
 " It will be a queer meeting between them ! 
 And when is it to come off ? "
 
 carlo's suffer- 249 
 
 " The sooner tlie better, of course ! Wlien I 
 found that he was no longer at the Murate, I hurried 
 here on the chance of catchmg you before you 
 went out to dmner. And now I must go and look 
 for him. I shall probably find him, or, at all 
 events, hear of him, at the Palmierts. I shall 
 just have a wash and be off directly I By Ju- 
 piter I I never had so much to do before in my 
 life. I shall begin to think I am quite a man of 
 business. It strikes me this sort of thing must be 
 capital training for being a prime minister ! I am 
 beginning to feel quite a capable man I " 
 
 " What a disagreeable shock such a change must 
 occasion you I And what do you mean to propose 
 to Signor Giulio ? " 
 
 " That we should go out to the convent where 
 his mother is the first thing to-morrow morning, to 
 be sm-e ! The chaplain gave me an order which 
 renders it unnecessary^ to ask for a fresh one." 
 
 " AVere you able to see her alone ? " 
 
 " No I that would be against all rule, it seems. 
 There was an old woman, one of the nuns, in the 
 room to play propriety ; but she stayed at the far- 
 ther end of it and went to sleep over her beads, so 
 it came to the same thing." 
 
 " And now what is to be said, or is anything to 
 be said, to the Canonico Adalbert© ? " 
 
 '^Ayl that is the question!" replied Carlo,
 
 250 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 tliouglitfully. "To-moiTow is the first of June. 
 Have you been able to ascertain when the Contes- 
 sina is to start for her journey ? " 
 
 " Yes ! The Contessa said that she could not 
 start till the morning of the second." 
 
 " That is well ! It would never do to let her be 
 sent off to that horrid place on the other side of 
 the Apennines. But, as it is, we shall have time 
 enough. I think this will be the best plan. I will 
 take Giulio out to the convent the first thing in 
 the morning. We can be back here by — say mid- 
 day — or one o'clock at the latest. Suppose you 
 were to see the Canonico in the course of the 
 morning, tell him how the land lies, and make an 
 appointment for an interview between him and 
 Giulio at any hour of the afternoon he likes. I 
 will tell him that we have so an^anged, and if he 
 does not approve I will take care that you know it 
 in the morning. But if you hear nothing to the 
 contrary, let it stand that you are to see the Cano- 
 nico and make an appointment for Giulio to see 
 him to-morrow afternoon. Perhaps it would be as 
 well for you to be present ; or, at all e^•ents to pre- 
 sent him to the Canonico." 
 
 " Yes ! I think that would be the proper thing to 
 do, since it was as my guest that he first was intro- 
 duced into the Palazzo Altamari," said the i\Iar- 
 chese Florimond, who then adverted to that ch'cum- 
 stance for the first time.
 
 carlo's supper. 251 
 
 '* Veiy well, then. Will you be at home here 
 from twelve till one to-morrow. I mil brino; Giulio 
 here, and we can go together to the Canonico." 
 
 "Very good! let it be so settled. And now 
 what about the Contessa ? What is to be said to 
 her?" asked the Marchese, in a tone which seemed 
 to say that that was the most important part of the 
 matter. 
 
 " Perhaps it will be best to say nothing till after 
 the interview ^^dth the Signor Canonico. Besides, 
 I think I deser^^e to have my share of the pleasure 
 of telling our news to the Contessa Zenobia ! " 
 
 To have his share of the fun. Carlo would have 
 said if he had been speaking to anybody else but 
 his respected uncle. But it was not safe joking 
 with the Marchese Florimond on that subject. 
 One does not jest about the gout with a martjT to 
 that malady. 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! that is all fair. You know you are 
 a favom'ite vrit\\ the Contessa. But I think we 
 ought not to delay telling her longer than to-mor- 
 row evening.^' 
 
 " No ! I think we might do so to-morrow even- 
 ing. In fact we must necessarily do so, if the Con- 
 tessina Stella's jom-ney, which now stands fixed for 
 the next day, is to be set aside. Besides, of com'se 
 there will be no reason or possibility for further 
 delay when the Signor Canonico shall have been 
 informed of the whole matter."
 
 252 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 ^' Now you are going to look up Giulio ? But 
 wliat will you do about dinner ? Diavolo ! A man 
 must dine, even if he is a prime minister or head 
 of the secret police." 
 
 " Oh ! I'll get a mouthful at the hottegone as I 
 pass ! " said Carlo. " You are off I suppose ! I 
 shall start in two minutes, as soon as I have got 
 rid of a little of this dust. I won't forget to let 
 you know if Giulio makes any objection to our 
 aiTangement. If not, you know, you fix the meet- 
 ing with the Canonico, and wait for us here from 
 twelve to one to-morrow." 
 
 " I understand ! figliuolo mio I " 
 
 '^ A rivederci, carissimo ZioT 
 
 A few minutes afterwards Carlo was once more 
 en route towards the house near the Porta Eomana, 
 at which he arrived just after Giulio and Einaldo 
 had gone out together. The former had, as he 
 supposed, betaken himself thither immediately on 
 his liberation from the Mui'ate ; and had passed the 
 remaining hours of the afternoon in talking over 
 his recent adventure and the histoiy of his stay at 
 Bologna, and the events subsequently resulting 
 from it, with all the friends assembled there ; — old 
 Signora Palmieri, her daughter Teresa, the Pro- 
 fessor, and Pinaldo and his wife. There was of 
 course much to be said between him and the Pro- 
 fessor. He would willingly also have remained 
 talking for houi's with Teresa Palmieri, with whom
 
 carlo's supper. 253 
 
 he then made acquaintance for the first time ; be- 
 cause she talked to him of Stella, and he was never 
 weary of listening to all the thousand little remem- 
 brances of her convent days, which Teresa fished 
 out of her memory for his benefit. But Rinaldo 
 would not allow him to remain quietly in the house 
 after the little party had dined together. It would 
 have been too contrary to the habits of Italian men 
 to do so. The Professor indeed, ensconcing him- 
 self in an arm-chair Avith a book, contented him- 
 self vdth. remaining at home mth the ladies as an 
 Enffhshman might have done. But the other two 
 went out to a cafe, intending to go thence to a 
 theatre. 
 
 Fortunately La Signora Francesca was able to 
 tell Brancacci the name of the cafe her husband 
 was in the habit of frequenting. It was one in the 
 Mercato Nuovo, known at that time as a resort of 
 liberals; — and one which most of the men, with 
 whom Brancacci habitually lived, would not have 
 liked, whether on account of its political or its non- 
 fashionable character, to be seen in. Brancacci, 
 however, cared little for such considerations ; and 
 hurrying off, as directed, found the two friends 
 sitting over their little cups of black coffee at a 
 rickety marble-topped table in one corner of the 
 large comfortless-looking room. 
 
 Assuredly the nations of continental Europe are 
 far more gregarious in their tastes and instincts
 
 254 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 than we are. And a remarkable manifestation of 
 tliat tendency is seen in the preference an Italian 
 lias for sitting in the most uncomfortable place, 
 ^here others congi'egate, rather than in the most 
 comfortable home, if peopled only by the members 
 of his family circle. Nor does an Italian ever 
 seem to feel any difficulty in discussing matters of 
 what w^ould appear to us a private nature in such 
 public places. Yet the Itahan national character 
 is very far from deficient in caution or secre- 
 tiveness. And the habitual freedom with which 
 business of all sorts is talked over in crowded cafes 
 can only be accounted for by supposing an equally 
 habitual absorption of every man in his own affairs 
 and his own conversation, to the exclusion of any 
 attention to those of his neighbom's. 
 
 Giulio ^lalatesta and Rinaldo Palmieri had their 
 heads very close together, it is true, as they sat in 
 a corner of the cafe over one of the little tables ; 
 and they were talking so intently that they did not 
 obsen e Brancacci till, coming up to the table at 
 which they were sitting, he cried out : 
 
 " At last I've hunted you down ! They could 
 not keep you then even at the Murate," he added, 
 di'opping his voice, and di'awing a little three-legged 
 stool, so as to sit do\^Tl close to his friends, '' till I 
 came back to look for you." 
 
 " That is hardly a place 3'ou would expect me to
 
 255 
 
 wait for you in, longer than I could help it," re- 
 turned Giulio laughing. "Thanks to your good 
 kind uncle I got niv discharge, as Saint Paul got 
 his ! And if I had not been in a great hui'iy to be 
 free, I should have been tempted to answer as 
 he did. However, here I am, a free man once 
 more ! " 
 
 " To think of your never telling any of us a 
 word, Signor Carlo, of all the wonderful news our 
 friend Giuho has been giving us !" said Kinaldo. 
 
 " No ! I thought it fair to leave him to do that 
 for himself. And I have been equally discreet in 
 other quarters. Not a soul knows anything of the 
 matter yet, except my uncle ! " 
 
 ^' Thanks ! my dear fellow I " said Giulio, stretch- 
 ino; out his hand to Brancacci. " I do not know 
 what I should have done, if I had not found so 
 good a friend at need as yourself." 
 
 " Such a statesman at need ! such an ambassa- 
 dor — such a prime minister at need ! I had no 
 conception before, what a capable and invaluable 
 man I am. You don't know half my doings yet. 
 Don't you ask me the result of my perquisitions, 
 my diplomacy, my conferences, my speeches, my 
 reticences, my noddings of the head, and my wink- 
 ings of the eye ? Per Bacco ! I have my news to 
 tell as well as you!" 
 
 " You don't mean that you have found out the
 
 25{} GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Superior of the convent of Santa Filomena for 
 me?'' said Giiilio. 
 
 ^' Altro ! found out, indeed I I knocked up the 
 Ai'chbishop at midnight, and clapping a pistol to 
 his right ear, told him that he had only two minutes 
 and a half to live, if he did not instantly tell me 
 where he had hidden the Abbess of Santa Filomena. 
 The wretched man at first pretended that she was 
 in the dungeons of the Inquisition of Rome. But 
 when I told him, that in that case I would request 
 mv friend the Pope to place her immediately at 
 mv disposition, and to excommunicate himself, he 
 confessed that she was secreted in a subterranean 
 vault on the top of the Apennines. I instantly 
 compelled him to sign an order for my admission 
 to that fearful prison-house ; I rode day and night 
 for sixteen weeks till I got there; I saw the captive; 
 I administered spiritual consolation to her ; I heard 
 her wondrous tale ! — And now don't you want to 
 know what it was ? " 
 
 " Are you sure you have not been administering 
 spiritual consolation to yourself out of a flask of 
 Chianti?" said Giulio, laughing. 
 
 " Unorateful ! I have not even administered to 
 mvself a morsel of dinner this blessed day. Oh, 
 hottegal* bring me a couple of buttered eggs, 
 
 * A Tuscan never calls for the "waiter" in a cafe'; but calls 
 " bottega" — " shop."
 
 carlo's supper. 257 
 
 bread, and half a flask. And let the eggs be fresh, 
 and the w^ine not, do you hear ! If I have spoken, 
 gentlemen, in any degree inconsistently with the 
 reserved gravity and discreet wisdom which are 
 generally allowed throughout Europe to be my 
 distinguishing characteristics, attribute it, I pray 
 you, to light-headedness caused by inanition.*' 
 
 ^' But in sober seriousness, my dear fellow, do 
 you really mean that you have seen this Abbess ? " 
 said Giulio. 
 
 " NothuifT can be more sober and more serious 
 than my meaning, except the fact that I really am 
 fainting for a mouthful of food ! " 
 
 " And you have been, then, racing about all day 
 for me ! Well ! you shall swallow yoiu* mouthful 
 before I ask you to tell your news. I suppose 
 there is little to tell." 
 
 " Ah ! that's why you are so patient. You 
 would not give me leave to eat a ciiimb or drink a 
 drop, if you knew what I had to tell !'' 
 
 "Did you serve an apprenticeship as turncock 
 to Tantalus, by any chance, Signor Carlo?" asked 
 Rinaldo. 
 
 " Let him eat his morsel in peace, and then he 
 will enlighten us," said GiuHo ; ^' and don't think, 
 my dear fellow," he added to Carlo, " either that I 
 am not anxious for your report, or not very grate- 
 ful to you for the trouble you have taken to get it. 
 
 VOL. III. S
 
 258 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Only, I have never had any great expectation that 
 this Abbess vi^ould be able to give me any very 
 valuable help. If she had known anything definite, 
 she would have spoken more clearly in the first 
 instance. I was determined, however, not to throw 
 the slightest chance away." 
 
 "There I" said Carlo, as he used the last frag- 
 ment of his little loaf — a semel^ the Tuscans call it 
 — ^to sop up, sponge-wise, the last particles of the 
 eggs from the little red eai'then saucer in which 
 they were serv^ed hissing hot from the fire, and 
 popping the morsel into his mouth, w^ashed it 
 dowai with the last of the half -flask of Chianti; 
 "there! now I once again feel myself a match 
 for Talleyrand! I was below the mark when 
 starving. Signor Giulio Malatesta, I pm-pose that 
 your lady mother shall stand by the altar at your 
 marriage with the C ontessina Stella AJtamari!" 
 
 The two other yo ung men looked at each other, 
 and Malatesta said gravely, " Come now, Carlo I 
 be in earnest for once in your hfe, there is a dear 
 good fellow! Remember, this is no laughing 
 matter to me !" 
 
 "Nor to me, my dear old friend, believe me!" 
 retiunied Carlo, in a more serious tone. "But I 
 mean what I say. If your mother does not stand 
 by at your wedding before the first flask of this 
 year's wine is made in Tuscany — call me a shirro /"
 
 carlo's supper. 259 
 
 " You really have some certain information, then, 
 Carlo mio V said Giulio, with a bright gleam in 
 his eye. 
 
 " Altro I Listen ! Briefly and soberly the matter 
 stands thus. The Abbess of Santa Filomena is 
 now in a convent some three miles out towards 
 Sesto. There, by means of an order from the 
 Archbishop, I have this day seen her. I had the 
 honour of a long conversation vn.i\\ her. She not 
 only knows \dt}\ certainty where yom' mother now 
 is, but is able to bring you at once to speech with 
 her. The order I have will suflice to obtain you 
 an inter^dew with the Abbess; and I purpose accom- 
 panying you to the convent where she is the first 
 thing to-morrow morning. I may add, my dear 
 fellow, that I have very good reason to believe that 
 the mother you will find is one in all respects with 
 whom you will be delighted, and of whom you 
 may be proud ! There ! is that plain, methodical, 
 and prosaic enough?" 
 
 "My dear fellow! how can I ever thank you 
 enough!" cried Giulio. 
 
 " Well then, that is settled. You will go out 
 with me to-morrow morning? We had better 
 start soon after ei^ht." 
 
 " Will I not ? I ^vill be at yoiu- door in the Via 
 Lai'ga by eight." 
 
 S2
 
 260 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " And bring a fiacre with you ! I did not say a 
 word to the Abbess about your other news." 
 
 " No ! of course not ! why should you ? It can 
 be nothing to her, you know," said Giuho. 
 
 " Well ! I felt tempted to do so all the same," said 
 Carlo; "but I refrained. Perhaps you will feel 
 tempted to tell it her in return for her information, 
 when you see her. We shall see. I have taken 
 it upon me to make another engagement for you, 
 after our retiu^n from the convent ; and if you do 
 not approve of it, I must tell my uncle to-night. 
 It is to call on his reverence the Canonico Alta- 
 mari. My uncle proposes to present you to him." 
 
 "It is very kind of him; and as it has to be 
 done, it is perhaps as well to do it at once." 
 
 ''Diamine! Recollect that there will be no 
 seeing somebody else till you have seen him, and 
 had it all out." 
 
 "True!" said Giulio, thoughtfully. 
 
 " And we look to your interview with the Canon 
 to-morrow afternoon, to prevent the starting of 
 that somebody else to Heaven knows where the 
 next day!" 
 
 " God grant that it may prevent it ! " said Giulio, 
 with a great sigh. 
 
 " Never fear ! / know how the land lies ! Have 
 / not told you that you shall be married before the 
 new wine is made ? Where do you sleep to-night ? "
 
 carlo's supper. 261 
 
 " At the inn behind the palazzo here, where I 
 went on my arrival. The good people could not 
 imagine what had become of me !" 
 
 " Now ! shall we go to the Pergola ? " said 
 Kinaldo. 
 
 " No ! let us go to the Teatro Nuovo," answered 
 Carlo. ^' If we go to the Pergola, I shall have to 
 go to half a dozen boxes, and be asked all sorts of 
 questions. Come along! What are they giving 
 at the Teatro Nuovo?" 
 
 It did not make much difference to the young 
 men what the perf onnance was ; and most people 
 except Italians would have thought it more conve- 
 nient to talk over all they had to say to each other 
 anywhere else than standing with their hats on 
 among a crowd of other loiterers at the back of the 
 pit of tlie theatre. But they were Itahans, and 
 acted accordingly.
 
 2^2 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 Punctually at eight o'clock the next morning 
 Giulio was at the door of the Palazzo Brancacci, 
 in the Via Larga, mth a hack-carriage. And in a 
 very few minutes Cai'lo joined him, and they 
 started on then' drive towards Sesto. 
 
 " Yes ! there she is ! " said the latter, in answer 
 to Giulio's mstful look at the Palazzo Altamari, 
 as they passed before it ; " there are only some 
 fifty hraccia* of space and one of stone wall between 
 you ! I wonder whether she has any idea of your 
 being in Florence ! " 
 
 " How should she have ? You forget how long 
 it is since it has been possible for me to write to 
 her!" answered Giuho, Avith a heavy sigh. 
 
 * The Tuscan measure, tlie hraccia^ is a little less than two feet.
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 263 
 
 " No ! I know that ! But of course the Contessa 
 Zenobia must have heard of your arrival, and she 
 may have let fall a word in the Contessina's 
 hearmg." 
 
 " Not she ! they would never let her know that I 
 was near her — dear, brave, constant Stella ! " 
 
 " Well, well ! we shall see before the sun sets 
 whether they are mclmed to let her know that you 
 are in Florence ! What a surprise for her it will 
 be ! She is thinking now of her dismal to-morrow's 
 journey to Palazzuolo ! " 
 
 " Which, thanks to you, we may hope to be in 
 time to prevent ! You have got the Archbishop's 
 order with you ? " 
 
 " All right, old fellow ! What do you take me 
 for ? It says nothing about admitting two ; but 
 we shall not find any difficulty, I dare say." 
 
 And then the conversation dropped, and they 
 drove on in the deliciously balmy morning air in 
 silence, till Carlo cried out : 
 
 " Oh I Giulio ! Are you asleep. We are about 
 as merry as if we were going to a funeral." 
 
 " I am but a bad companion for such a jolly 
 dog as you. Carlo mio, at the best of times," re- 
 turned Malatesta, "and am worse than ever this 
 morning. But you must make allowance for all 
 that I have pressing on my mind just at present. 
 Think what it is to be about to see a mother, of
 
 264 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 whom you know absolutely nothing, for the first 
 time!" 
 
 "Yes, I admit it is a nervous sort of thing," 
 rephed Carlo; ^'but I am convinced, from what 
 the Abbess said, that your discovery will not be a 
 disagreeable one. She is herself a most pleasing 
 person — a gentle, charming, lady-like manner! — 
 and very handsome ! " 
 
 " It matters very little to me what she is ! " re- 
 joined Giulio. " I am thinking of what the other 
 wm be like." 
 
 "Very true!" said Carlo, looking into liis 
 friend's eyes with a look of queer meaning and 
 longing to tell him — " very true ! but she is a sort of 
 person who would not imagine another woman to 
 be all those things if she were not so." 
 
 " And did she say all that of my poor mother ? " 
 asked Giulio. 
 
 " She spoke in a manner," replied Carlo, rather 
 puzzled and hesitatingly, "which led me to infer 
 that she must so think of her. But it is no use 
 speculating on the subject ! " he added, fearing to 
 be driven into further perplexities, and quite de- 
 termined not to betray his secret. " What is the 
 good of guessing, Avhen we shall so soon see for 
 ourselves ! " 
 
 " That is true ! " sighed Giulio. " Are we near 
 the place?"
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 265 
 
 " You see that group of cypresses, a little above 
 the level of the road, on the side of the hill yonder, 
 with a little squat belfry and a lot of white build- 
 ings close behind them? That is the convent. 
 We have to chmb a Httle bit of steep hill out 
 of the road. I can hear the little bell tinkling 
 away for matins, or nones, or angelus, or some- 
 thing, or else for the mere fun of the thing ! " 
 
 " Yes ! I can hear it ! I hope the nuns won't be 
 at any sen'ice which will prevent us from seeing 
 the Abbess." 
 
 " Oh I never fear ! If they are in the choir, she 
 will come out to the Archbishop's order ! " 
 
 It was about nine o'clock when they reached the 
 con^'ent. The chm'ch doors were open, as before. 
 The same two old women were on the little sunny 
 terrace, and manifested the same, or even an in- 
 creased, astonishment at the repetition of the won- 
 derful phenomenon of a city carriage arriving at 
 the convent ; — and this time with two signoH in it ! 
 Would it come to-morrow with three ? Were the 
 nuns, now in these bad latter days, going to fall 
 into a course of mundane dissipation ? Santa Ala- 
 donna ! There were no such doings in their young 
 days ! But, then, neither in those days had they 
 the rheumatisms and the cramps of these latter 
 times ! And bread had been only nine quattrini a 
 pound ! Evidently the times were out of joint, and
 
 266 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 the world was going to the bad ! Considerations 
 which did not j^revent them from endeavoming, 
 like wise old women, to extract from the evil of 
 the times any possible good that could be got 
 out of it, by hobbhng up to the carriage with 
 outstretched withered hands, and urgent demands 
 in the name of the Madonna and Saint Eusebius. 
 
 And then the same process preparatory to ob- 
 taining access to the interior of the monastery had 
 to be gone through, and the same delays to be 
 borne with such patience as the young men could 
 muster. 
 
 "I think," said Carlo, while they were wait- 
 ing in the bare-looking whitewashed " parhtorioy^ 
 which seemed colder and barer in the morning, 
 for the sun-rays were not streaming into it — " I 
 think I had better vanish when I have introduced 
 you to the Abbess." 
 
 " Oh, no ! Why should you do that ? There is 
 nothing to be said that you don't know. You had 
 better stay," said Giulio. 
 
 " No ! There is nothing to be said that I don't 
 know ! " replied Carlo. " Nevertheless, I think I 
 will leave you two together ; — that is, if I can 
 manage to get out ! If not, I shall get up a 
 separate flirtation with the old chaperone. Here 
 they come ! " 
 
 And again the Abbess, attended by the same old
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 267 
 
 woman as on the occasion of Carlo's previous visit, 
 entered as before. The ^'chaperone," as Carlo 
 profanely called her, took her chair as before, 
 placed it immediately beside the door, as if her 
 function had been to prevent any attempt at escape 
 on the part of the Abbess or her visitors, and im- 
 mediately absorbed herself — doubtless according to 
 orders — in the exercise of the rosary. 
 
 The Abbess walked, also, as before, across the 
 wide brick floor to the opposite window — as before ! 
 but an observant eye might have marked a differ- 
 ence in her bearing. Her step was slow, and her 
 movements struck both the young men as remark- 
 ably dignified and elegant. But her eyes were 
 bent on the ground, veiled beneath then- long 
 soft lashes, which showed their silken frmge in 
 strong contrast with the perfect paleness of her 
 face. A more boldly curious glance than that of 
 either of her young \'isitors might also have per- 
 ceived that the folds of her religious dress were 
 rising and falHng over her bosom in a manner 
 indicating unmistakably that the heart beneath 
 that coarse serge drapery in no wise shared the 
 tranquillity of her outw^ard bearing. The eyes 
 remained do^vncast during the whole of her passage 
 across the room. But who can doubt that they 
 had already taken in at a glance every detail and 
 minute particular of the appearance of the new-
 
 268 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 comer with that unfailing rapidity of accurate 
 observation which is so frequently a speciality of 
 the finest female organisations. 
 
 When she had reached the spot near the win- 
 dow at which the conversation with Brancacci had 
 taken place, and before she had taken a seat, 
 Carlo advanced towards her, and, with a low bow, 
 which she returned by the usual benedictory move- 
 ment of the fingers, but so faintly made as to 
 suggest the idea that she was suffering from phy- 
 sical exhaustion, said : 
 
 " Eeverend mother, this is Giulio Malatesta, 
 whom I have brought to you in fulfilment of my 
 promise that I would make the interval before he 
 waited on you as short as possible. Let it please 
 your maternity to note that I have not taken it on 
 myself to inform him of the facts mentioned by 
 you to me yesterday, thinking it better to leave 
 that duty to your maternity ; as I also thought it 
 best that he should himself communicate to you, if 
 he shall see fit to do so, the circumstances which 
 have recently produced a change in his own po- 
 sition." 
 
 Malatesta bowed reverently as he stood before 
 the tall, straight, and slender figure of the Abbess, 
 erect before him, but with her eyes still fixed on the 
 ground ; while Carlo, after the above introductory 
 speech, spoken in a tone of solemn seriousness that 
 was very unusual in him, lounged across the room
 
 MOTHER AND SOX. 269 
 
 to the place where the old nun was kneeling over 
 her beads, and standing before her as a man stands 
 in front of a lady in a drawing-room, remarked, in 
 an easy offhand manner : 
 
 " A charming position you have here for your 
 convent, Signora!" 
 
 The old woman reared herself and glared at 
 him with a mixture of terror, indignation, and 
 astonishment, which seemed to deprive her for 
 some seconds of the power of speech. 
 
 " The view over the valley from the terrace in 
 front of your church is really exquisite ! " he con- 
 tinued, utterly unconscious of her dismay. 
 
 " Your business here is with her I " said the old 
 woman at length, with harsh sternness, pointing 
 her fore-£nger as she spoke to the Abbess. 
 
 " My part of the busmess is done. It is that 
 gentleman who has now to speak with the Abbess ; 
 I may, therefore, have the pleasm-e of a little con- 
 versation with you I " returned Carlo, with undi- 
 minished good humom\ 
 
 " I have no permission to speak with you ! " re- 
 joined the nun, leaving Carlo to infer, if it should 
 so please him, the compliment that she would be 
 very glad to avail herself of it if she had ; but still 
 speaking in the same gruff voice. 
 
 ^' In that case," said Carlo, '^ I think I had 
 better go out." 
 
 The old woman looked perplexe^Hy backwards
 
 270 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 and forwards from liim to the two persons at the 
 other end of the room, once or twice, and then 
 said, again pointing with her forefinger : 
 
 " I may not leave him here alone ! " 
 
 " Then, I suppose, I must try to find the way to 
 the outer door by myself ! " rejoined Carlo, taking 
 the handle of the room-door in his hand. 
 
 " No ! Stay, I beg you, Signore ! That cannot 
 be ! You cannot pass through the convent alone. 
 It is not permitted!" exclaimed the old woman, 
 becoming less laconic, in the extremity of her alarm 
 and perplexity. 
 
 " Per Bacco I questa e huff a /"* exclaimed Carlo, 
 tickled by the absurdity of the position into a laxity 
 of expression unbecomuig the atmosphere of a 
 nunnery. " Is there no way, then, by which I can 
 get out ? I shall burst, if I am obliged to stay 
 here and hold my tongue ! " 
 
 Urged by the danger of this alternative, and dis- 
 mayed by the verbosity of the conversation into 
 which she was being betrayed, the old woman at 
 last said, pointing again as before : 
 
 " He must come, too — ^to the door ! — Then he 
 may come back again !" 
 
 " That is a bright thought ! " said Carlo. " I 
 should never have thought of that. Giulio," he 
 cried, " you must please to come and escort me out 
 
 * " This is droll."
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 271 
 
 of this wonderful place. For, it seems, the old 
 lady here must not lose sight of either of us ! " 
 
 So Giulio, accompanied his friend and the old 
 nun, tinkling her warnmg bell as she went, to the 
 donvent door. 
 
 " I vnW wait here for you on the terrace, old 
 fellow, till you come out. Do not be in any hurry! 
 An hour under the cypresses with a cigar, vriW 
 be pleasant enough ! " 
 
 And Giulio, reconducted in the same manner, 
 returned to the '' parlatorio ;'' and the nun imme- 
 diately resumed her position and her occupation 
 close to the door. 
 
 The Abbess was sitting by the window with her 
 face turned towards it, and leaning on her hand, 
 appai'ently in deep thought. 
 
 " The Signorina Altamari was right, then, re- 
 verend mother, when she wrote to me that it was 
 in yom' power to give me information respecting 
 my poor mother. For, I understand from my ex- 
 cellent friend, Signor Carlo Brancacci, that you 
 have certain knowledge of her present where- 
 abouts." 
 
 The Abbess did not answer for a few seconds, 
 and then, at first, replied only by a bow, till she, 
 not without difficulty apparently, said, " It is true, 
 Signore ! I have that knowledge." There was 
 some feeling at her heart which prevented her
 
 272 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 from using the ecclesiastical formula ^^ my son," in 
 addressing him. 
 
 " May I hope, then, that your maternity will 
 lend your aid to the accomplishment of an object 
 of which you cannot but approve ?" said Malatesta, 
 mth cold courtesy. 
 
 " Did your friend mention to you," asked the 
 Abbess, speaking in a slow, staccato manner, as 
 though her throat were dry, and the words came 
 from it with difficulty — " Did youi' friend mention 
 to you the reasons that had suggested themselves 
 to me for doubting whether I could approve the 
 object you allude to ? " 
 
 ^' No, indeed ! reverend mother ; I am at a loss 
 to conceive what reasons can possibly have so sug- 
 gested themselves to you," replied Giulio, with 
 surprise. 
 
 ^' The relationship between a mother and son," 
 continued the Abbess, speaking with the same 
 difficulty, and, as it were, reluctance as before, 
 " like that of husband and wife, may be a source 
 of infinite blessing and happiness to both — or it 
 may be the reverse. Does your experience of the 
 world, short as it may be, my son" (she dropped 
 the two last words so tremulously, and, as it were, 
 breathlessly, that they were barely audible) ; ''' does 
 yom* experience of the world furnish ^^our memory 
 with no examples of the latter misery ? Have you
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 273 
 
 seen no cases in which it were better for a son 
 never to have known a mother ; — in which he has 
 had to blush for a mother, who, in bearing him, 
 inflicted the mark of an indeKble disgrace; — in 
 which all those holy and exquisite affections that 
 should make the happiness of such a tie, have been 
 tm-ned to gall and bitterness ; — in which," she con- 
 tinued, raising her voice to a tone in which a prac- 
 tised ear might have detected the accent of sharp 
 anguish, "the one only proof of a mother's love that 
 a mother could give, would have been, if happily 
 she were unknown, to heedfully remain so ; — if 
 unhappily still living, to be at least dead to him ! " 
 
 Giulio had become very pale while the Abbess 
 was speaking. He clasped his hands tightly toge- 
 ther as he stood rigidly in front of her, looking at 
 her Avith his great dark eyes as if he would read 
 the secret she seemed so reluctantly to part with in 
 her heart, and the drops of perspiration gathered 
 on his brow. 
 
 '^ Reverend mother," he said, speaking slowly 
 but firmly, "your words seem intended to prepare 
 me for a hea^y blow. They can hardly be meant 
 to save me from it. You can scarcely deem me 
 guilty of the cowardice of shrinking from sacred 
 duties, even if they must bring only pain and not 
 pleasure with them, by voluntarily remaining in 
 ignorance of what I have come here to leani." 
 
 VOL. III. T
 
 274 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 ^* Nay, my son ! The volition in the matter is 
 still with me. Should I deem it better, wiser, 
 more for your welfare and happiness, not to make 
 this discovery to you, it will be my — my bounden 
 duty to remain silent." 
 
 "I cannot think," returned Giulio, keeping his 
 position, standing immediately in front of her, and 
 looking down on her with earnest eyes while he 
 spoke with extreme gravity ; " I cannot tliink that 
 your maternity would, under any circumstances, 
 feel yourself justified in adopting such a course. 
 I trust you will pardon me for using language 
 hardly becoming from me to one in your position, 
 and let my paramount interest in this question be 
 my excuse. I cannot, I repeat, conceive that on 
 mature reflection you will find it consistent with 
 your duty to keep from me the knowledge which 
 you have admitted you possess, respecting my un- 
 happy and foully-wronged mother. The manner 
 in which you have spoken prepares me, as I must 
 suppose it was intended to do, for the shock and 
 great pain of finding in my mihappy mother — not 
 such an one as a son would wish to find. But let 
 her position, qualities, and conduct, be what they 
 may, my determination, nay, my ardent desire in 
 the matter, would remain the same. Think, reve- 
 rend mother — or rather it is for me to think — of 
 all the wrongs, the woes, the injustice, the suffer-
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 275 
 
 ings, which that poor mother has had to struggle 
 with. If her unhappy position, and the cruel 
 wrong which was done her, — worse wrong than 
 your maternity can guess! — have caused her to 
 fall farther, and ever farther from the standard of 
 duty and rectitude, and a blameless life, so much 
 the more is it my duty, as it is my dearest wish, to 
 repair as far as may be the injustice which has 
 been done her ; to pour balm into the heart-wounds 
 that have exposed her to dangers to which happier 
 women are strangers; to open to her a haven of 
 refuge and protection which she has never known ; 
 and to soothe her heart mth a love of wliich she 
 has been defrauded." 
 
 The measured and grave tone in which Giulio 
 had begun to speak had gradually been changed, 
 as his heart swelled with the emotions which his 
 words produced; and he now hurried on, pouring out 
 the phrases wnith all that eloquence of accent and 
 intonation wdth which the excitable southern nature, 
 when warmed by strong feeling, so readily expresses 
 itself : 
 
 "You know not, reverend mother, you cannot 
 know, how my heart yearns to this poor lonely- 
 hearted mother, defrauded of all her share of love ! 
 how I loner to tell her that the child of her bosom, 
 the child of her son-ow and shame, has come to 
 her, to comfort, to atone, and to love her, and to 
 t2
 
 276 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 wipe out sorrow and shame ! Give me my mother! 
 I demand her of you ! You have no right to keep 
 her from me ! " 
 
 " My son ! my son ! " sobbed rather than said 
 the Abbess, and the words forcing tliemselves con- 
 vulsi^'ely from her bosom, seemed laden w^ith the 
 weight of all the contending emotions which were 
 tearing it. She held out her two open hands a 
 little in front of her — only a little, as if not daring 
 to claim the embrace, which she was so tremblingly 
 longing to receive. 
 
 But Giulio, too much absorbed by the strength 
 of his own emotion to mark the manifestations of 
 hers, conceived her words, to be but the mode of 
 address proper to her ecclesiastical rank. 
 
 " If I have spoken too boldly," he said, remem- 
 ber that it is the heart of a son pleading for the 
 mother that bore him ! " 
 
 ^' My son ! my son ! " reiterated the now ^^olently 
 sobbing woman, looking up with streaming eyes 
 into his face, and extending her hands a little, but 
 still timidly and hesitatingly, towards him. 
 
 " What ! " cried Giulio, bending forwards, and 
 staring ^^ith dilated eyes, still doubtful whether he 
 at last understood her aright. '' What ? " 
 
 But the poor mother had no further eloquence at 
 command. Looking up at him, as he stood trans- 
 fixed with the greatness of his astonishment, and
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 277 
 
 hardly yet realising the truth of what he had 
 heard, she Hfted her eyes with a piteous pleading 
 in them to his face, and pointing with the fingers 
 of one hand to her bosom, nodded with her head, 
 as she sobbed out the one word, " Giulio ! " 
 
 Then the whole truth burst in all its fulness 
 upon him. 
 
 For an instant he stood almost stmmed by the 
 violence of all the varied emotions which rushed 
 tumultuously over his heart. Then throwing him- 
 self on his knees before her, as she sat, he flung 
 his arms around her, while she clasped his head to 
 her heart, and let her cheek fall upon his brow. 
 
 The nun at the farther end of the room must 
 have happily fallen into as fast a slumber over her 
 beads, as the occupation of "telling" them was 
 calculated to produce ; for she sth'red not, and 
 "made no sign" of cross or other, as she most 
 assuredly w^ould have done in some sort, had she 
 been aw^are of the scene that was being enacted in 
 her presence. 
 
 It was some little time before either the mother 
 or the son could speak connected w^ords ; nor did 
 Giulio move, till he felt the warm tears from his 
 mothers eyes trickling silently on his forehead. 
 Then drawing back his head, and taking her two 
 hands in his, but without rising from his knees, he 
 said:
 
 278 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " Oh mother ! mother ! that sweet word ! mother, 
 how could you^how coidd you hesitate and hold 
 back the precious secret you had to tell me !" 
 
 " Have I done right, then, my Giulio ! my own 
 boy ! How can I forgive myself for — for — for 
 presenting to you a nun, an unwedded nun, as 
 your mother, my poor injm^ed boy ! " 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! Do not speak in that way ! 
 It is all a delusion, — a mistake, — a cheat ! — and 
 were it otherwise "' 
 
 "It was she, — she whom you love, my Giulio, 
 and who loves you with, oh ! what a love ! what a 
 noble all-trusting love I — it was she, Giulio, who 
 j&rst insisted that yom' unfortunate mother should 
 be made known to you ! It was her wish, Giidio !" 
 
 " Dear generous-hearted noble darlmg ! " cried 
 Giuho, as the tears, — proud, sweet tears ! gathered 
 in his eyes ; " of com'se she insisted ! Did she not 
 give me her love, knowing — as I was when she 
 first saw me ! All ! mother ! when you know 
 Stella as I know her ! What a blessed chance it 
 was that brought you together ! " 
 
 " A blessing I shall never cease to be thankful 
 for! If only — if " 
 
 There was something very touching in the tre- 
 mulous sensitive shrinking of the poor mother from 
 the di'ead that her position might be felt as a social 
 injury to her son ; — a dread that scarcely dared to
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 279 
 
 permit itself to be reassured, lest lie might feel 
 that it had been better for him to have remained 
 in ignorance of his mother, than to have found 
 such an one ! — a dread above all lest it should 
 injure him in the matter of his love ! 
 
 " She knew all, Giulio ! " she continued, eagerly 
 pleading, " all, all my unhappy histors' ! And— 
 and — and it did not lessen her devotion to you, or 
 her desire, that you should find your mother — such 
 as she is ! " 
 
 " Such as she is ! " exclaimed he, drawing back 
 his head, and thromng it up proudly, while he 
 looked at her mth infinite tenderness in his eyes ; 
 — " such as she is ! Oh ! mother, how can you 
 speak in such a manner ! Whsi son would not be 
 proud of such a mother ? " 
 
 For an instant there was a gleam of gratified 
 affection in her eyes, as he spoke ; but in the next 
 moment she dropped the long lashes over them, 
 and bent her head, as she said : 
 
 " Alas ! there is no cancelling the disgrace with 
 which the world marks such motherhood as mine, 
 my son ; — no remedy for the injury which such a 
 mother inflicts upon her child ! " 
 
 " But it is all an en-or, and a cheat, I tell you, 
 mother dear ; and the cheat has been found out at 
 last!" he cried, still kneehng at her knee, and 
 holding her hands in his. " What a dolt I am not
 
 280 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 to have already made you understand, and set that 
 dear long-aching heart at rest. Have I not told 
 you — did not Brancacci tell you — that all that was 
 changed ? " 
 
 " Your friend, he that was here just now, — he 
 loves you well, too, my Giulio ! they all love you ! 
 — told me that changes in your position made it 
 more desirable than ever for you to discover your 
 mother. But he said nothing, — he refused to say 
 anything to explain his meaning." 
 
 " He thought, good kind-hearted fellow as he is, 
 that he would leave to me the pleasure of telling 
 you my tidings. But he did not guess, I'll be 
 bound, that I should be so malacboit as to keep 
 them so long untold. This, it is then, my own 
 mother, in a word. You are the lawfully-wedded 
 wife — the only wife of the Marchese Cesare Mala- 
 testa, my father ; and I am his only lawful son and 
 heh:!" 
 
 "Ah no! Giuho, Giulio, there is some terrible 
 mistake ! Here is the first office I have to perform 
 for you, my poor boy ! It is I who have to trample 
 out the last spark of your hope ! Disappointment 
 is the first thing I bring with me. Do not delude 
 yourself, my poor Giulio ! The marriage which I 
 made clandestinely with your father in Bologna 
 was pronounced by the tribunals there to be in- 
 formal and of no effect. I had friends there, my
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 281 
 
 son, who would have taken care that it should have 
 been shown to be otherwise had there been any 
 possibility of doing so ! " 
 
 " My own darling mother ! It is as I tell you ! 
 There is no mistake ! I know all about it ; and if 
 you will hear me patiently I will soon show you 
 how all the eri'ors fell out. You do not bring me 
 disappointment. On the contrarj-, it is I who 
 bring you an unhoped-for deliverance from much 
 sorrow ! Listen to me now, my own mother. Do 
 you know why the marriage at Bologna between 
 you and my father was pronounced invalid ? " 
 
 " Assuredly I know, Giulio mio ! pur troppo I * 
 The iaw requires that a marriage so made should 
 be mtnessed by two persons of legal age. One of 
 the witnesses of my marriage was riot of legal 
 age. The marriage, therefore, was not made ac- 
 cording to the requisite conditions, and was pro- 
 nounced accordingly to be null and void ! " 
 
 " Exactly so ! The witness, who turned out 
 to be no witness, because he was under age, 
 was ^" 
 
 " Pietro Varani ; the son of my poor mother's 
 nearest neighbour." 
 
 " Precisely so ! Pietro Varani, now Professor 
 of Materia Medica in the University of Pisa, and 
 my very good and valued friend." 
 
 * " But too well ! "
 
 282 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " No ! you don't say so ! Poor Pietro ! Ah 
 me ! How the past days come back to me ! Yes ! 
 poor Pietro was a contemporary and fellow-student 
 
 of my husb Alas ! my Giuho, of him whom 
 
 I believed to be my husbandj besides being our 
 friend and nearest neighbom' — and, as such, was 
 chosen one of the ^vitnesses. Unhappily he was 
 not of legal age." 
 
 "Pietro Varani in the September of the year 
 1828 was of legal age." 
 
 " Nay, Giuliomio ; my son, my son, I fear me you 
 are leaning on a reed. Poor Pietro knew perfectly 
 well that he was mider age ! but was not aware 
 that the law required such a condition. If any 
 doubt could have existed it was set at rest by the 
 entry of his matriculation in the University books, 
 and, I beheve, even by his baptismal certificate." 
 
 "Yes ! also, mother dear, as you say, by 'his 
 baptismal certificate. But that certificate, on 
 which the other statements of his age were based, 
 had been fraudulently altered, showing him to be 
 one year younger than he really was ! " 
 
 " Gracious Heaven ! by whom and for what pur- 
 pose ? Not by my husband ? " almost shrieked the 
 Abbess. 
 
 " No ! assm'edly not by my father ! Remember 
 that the fraud had been perpetrated previously to 
 Pietro Varani's admission to the University, inas-
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 283 
 
 much as the erroneous statement was repeated in 
 the matriculation books." 
 
 " By whom then ? " asked the Abbess, lost in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 " By ^larta Varani, the mother of Pietro," 
 answered Giulio, nodding his head gravely, and 
 looking solemnly into his mother's face. 
 
 " And why was this cruel, this wicked wrong 
 done? What could have been that strange old 
 woman's motive 1 " 
 
 " Her motive, my mother, was to save her son 
 from that stigma which it was so bitter a sorrow to 
 you to beheve that you had inflicted on your son. 
 Pietto Varani was born in the south of France, 
 before his mother was married to his father. 
 When they were about to return to Bologna, 
 where she was well known and held in good repute, 
 and where her son would have to take his civil 
 status, and make his career, Marta Varani deter- 
 mined to represent his birth to have occurred one 
 year later than it really did, and altered the 
 French certificate of his birth accordingly." 
 
 " ^lercif ul Heaven ! And for this I was con- 
 demned " 
 
 " Even so, my mother ! You were condemned, 
 and your son was condemned to suffer all that un- 
 justly, which Marta Varani and her son ought to 
 have suffered justly."
 
 284 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " I can see now the cruel, hard old woman as 
 she looked " 
 
 "Nevertheless, my mother, let us understand 
 rightly the extent of the crime committed against 
 you — against us — by that cruel and hard old 
 woman — for it cannot be denied that such she was. 
 Of course you perceive that the fraud originally 
 perpetrated by her was intended to benefit herself 
 and her son, without any injury to others. I do 
 not doubt that if it had been in her power to 
 prevent the fatality which led to the choice of 
 Pietro Yarani as a witness to a marriage which was 
 fatally in vah dated by the falsehood regarding his 
 age, she would have done so. Her fault lay in 
 this — that when the mischief had been done, she 
 held her peace and spoke no word to prevent the 
 fatal consequences from follomng. She could not 
 bring herself to save you at the cost of exposing 
 her own fraud and forfeiting the advantages which 
 she had gained by a twenty years' persistence in it." 
 
 ^' It was very ^^dcked and very cruel ! " said the 
 Abbess with a deep sigh. 
 
 " It was very mcked and very cruel," resumed 
 her son ; " but in this also we must be just, my 
 mother, in the apportionment of blame — painful 
 as it is to be so, we must remember that but for 
 the much worse treachery of another, the in- 
 validity of the marriage before the Archbishop of
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 285 
 
 Bologna, would have been a matter of compara- 
 tively small moment. All that was needed when 
 the nullity of that ceremony was discovered, was 
 to repeat it in a proper and binding manner. 
 Marta Varani was, in the first instance — that is to 
 say, as soon as the nullity of the marriage was 
 declared — justified in saying to herself that forth- 
 with to confess her fraud in the matter of the cer- 
 tificate of her son's birth, would have been to in- 
 jm'e herself very seriously for no other purpose 
 than to save you from a small inconvenience. 
 She was justified in presuming that the error in 
 the matter would have been at once satisfactorily 
 rectified, as it easily might have been. Then, 
 
 when the fatal news of the IMarchese Mala- 
 
 testa's marriao;e ^\'ith the Contessa Cecilia Sam- 
 pieri came to Bologna, right, justice, every noble 
 sentiment demanded that the truth should be de- 
 clared. But it had then become more difficult and 
 more painful to do so; and Marta Varani had 
 neither sufficient love of right, nor sufficient care 
 for you to brave the troubles that lay in the way 
 of acting conscientiously. She quieted her con- 
 science, moreover, with the consideration that it 
 was too late to prevent misery and distress in one 
 quarter or another. If your marriage were made 
 good, what became of that of the noble lady the 
 Contessa Cecilia Sampieri ? "
 
 286 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " And what does become of that marriage % " 
 asked the Abbess, looking np in sudden alarm. 
 
 " Assuredly the nullity of that marriage follows 
 from the establishment of yours. Truly the train 
 of evils growing out of that first fraud in the 
 matter of Pietro Varani's real age is a long one. 
 But you see now, my mother, the real amount of 
 old Marta Varani's cruelty and ^vickedness. It was 
 
 bad, but infinitely less so than that of another. 
 
 Moreover, the old woman's repentance was, as we 
 must suppose, sincere. She did what she could to 
 remedy the injustice which had been done on her 
 death-bed; for she is dead. She died a few 
 months since — placing in my hands, before her 
 death, the means of establishing her son's real age, 
 and, consequently, the validity of yom' marriage. 
 I need hardly tell you, mother dear, that from first 
 to last in this sad story Pietro Varani — Professor 
 Varani as I ought to call him — has not only been 
 wholly blameless, but has felt and acted as a true- 
 hearted honom'able man, and a sincerely-attached 
 friend." 
 
 " Poor Pietro Varani ! Yes ! he was that ! " 
 said the Abbess, with a sigh as from some feeling, 
 or some far away memory of some feeling, a slight 
 blush overspread her pale and delicate cheek. 
 
 "I think," pursued Giulio, in a graver and 
 sadder tone, " that I ought not to conceal from you,
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 287 
 
 my mother, that it was the fimi persuasion of the 
 old woman, Marta Yarani, that the Marchese 
 Cesare Malatesta purposely selected her son as a 
 witness to the pretended marriage, with the 
 planned and premeditated intention that it should 
 be declared invahd. God knows if it was so ! " 
 
 " Oh ! no, no ! not that ! " cried the Abbess, 
 looking up at Giulio, with a face as pale as death, 
 and trembling as if she had received a new and 
 unexpected wound. " Not that ! — He yielded to 
 
 temptation and coercion aftein\^ards ; but not 
 
 that — not that ! He did love once No ! I can- 
 not believe that. Do not compel me to beheve 
 that!" 
 
 Curious to mark how even yet the woman's 
 heart clung, after all that had come and gone, to 
 the notion that once — some quarter of a century 
 ago ! — she had been truly loved ! 
 
 " God knows the truth !" returned her son, 
 solemnly. " I have no reason whatever for think- 
 ing the old woman's suspicion a just one ! Possibly 
 the desire to make or to feel her share in tlie mis- 
 chief which had been done as light as possible, 
 biased her towards an unfairly evil opinion of him, 
 on whom fell all that portion of the blame that did 
 not fall on her." 
 
 " Yes ! Yes ! she judged him with cruel injus- 
 tice in that respect ! " returned the woman who had
 
 288 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 loved him so well ; " but about that second mar- 
 riage, Giulio onio ? I feel stunned by the sudden- 
 ness of all you have told me, and my head seems 
 whirling round. What will happen about that 
 marriage — and the unhappy woman — mother too, 
 she also ! " 
 
 "AVliat will happen — has happened rather — 
 there can be no doubt. That marriage at Fermo 
 was no marriage. The Contessa Cecilia Sampieri 
 was no wife — ivas not, for, happily for her, she has 
 been dead for many years — and the son she has 
 left, and who is now held to be the Marchese 
 Alfonso Malatesta, has no right to that title." 
 
 "It is very dreadful!" said the Abbess, placing 
 her hand, as she spoke, over her eyes. 
 
 "It is very dreadful I" returned her son ; " but 
 it would have been much more so, that you, my 
 mother, should have continued to suffer unmerited 
 obloquy and injustice !" 
 
 " It is very, very sweet — you cannot guess hoia 
 sweet, my Giulio, to have become suddenly rich in 
 a son, and a son's love ! And it is, oh I so sweet ! 
 to know that his inheritance from his mother is not 
 one of shame and disgrace. But for the rest — 
 what change can be any change for me ! " 
 
 " Respecting all that, my own mother, there 
 will be much to be said. We must talk together 
 at much greater length than we can do now
 
 MOTHER AXD SON. 289 
 
 There is that poor dear, best of good fellows, 
 Carlo, waiting outside for me !" 
 
 "You don't know how he spoke of you to me 
 yesterday, my Giulio ! with ^\'hat delicacy and true 
 good feeling he did his mission, and what comfort 
 he gave me !" 
 
 "And you don't know how good and kind a 
 friend he has been to me, when — when I was not 
 the Marchese Giulio Malatesta!" said GiuKo, put- 
 tino; those w^ords tocrether for the first time. 
 
 "God bless him I" ejaculated the Abbess, fer- 
 vently. 
 
 " And there is another subject, dearest mother, 
 to be talked over between us," said Giulio, blushing. 
 
 "Do you think it has been absent from my 
 mind, Giulio mio ! But you forget that there is 
 less to be said on that subject than might have 
 been. Though I doubt not that you would find it 
 a very pleasant chapter to discuss till the Ave 
 Maria rings ! But remember, that my daughter- 
 in-law vdW be an older acquaintance of mme than 
 my son !" 
 
 " Mother ! you speak as if all were settled, and 
 the prize won ! You don't know the people on 
 whom she is dependent !" 
 
 " But I do know her ! e basta I* If ever a man 
 was blessed with the devoted love of a true, brave, 
 
 ♦ •' And that is sufficient.*' 
 VOL. III. U
 
 290 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 all-trusting, all-daring, unshakably constant heart, 
 you are so blessed, my son I" 
 
 " God bless you, my own mother !" said Giulio, 
 as, with his eyes full of tears, he stooped liis head, 
 and pressed his lips to his mother's forehead. 
 
 "It has been arrano;ed that I am to have an 
 interview with her uncle and guardian, the Canonico 
 Adalberto Altamari, this afternoon. I am to be at 
 the Palazzo Brancacci, in the Via Larga, by one 
 o'clock ; and it is time for me to be going. Of 
 course I shall see you to-morrow ! " 
 
 " Go ! and all good fortune attend you, my 
 Giulio ! It is hard to part mth you ! As for my 
 future " 
 
 " That, too, is another large chapter. But the 
 Marchesa Malatesta, madre mia, mil assuredly find 
 that things will arrange themselves as she may 
 most wish !" 
 
 " Ah me ! that will indeed open a new chapter 
 in the hfe of the Marchesa Malatesta!" said the 
 Abbess, with a sigh ! " But while the world is 
 brio-ht before you, my son, it cannot be veiy dark 
 to me!" 
 
 " Adieu, till to-morrow, mother dear !" 
 
 The Abbess rose from her chair as he spoke, and 
 held out her arms towards him ; and the mother 
 and son were in the next instant locked in a long 
 and close embrace.
 
 MOTHER AND SOX. 291 
 
 Wlien they separated, and Giulio turned to 
 leave the parlatorio, the old nun, who had some- 
 what prematurely waked from her slumbers, was 
 standing in the middle of the room with open 
 mouth and uplifted hands, speecliless with horror 
 at the spectacle that met her eyes ! Giulio burst 
 into a loud laugh, as he said, " Pardon, holy sister ! 
 we thought you were asleep ! " 
 
 It became but too clear to the old woman, that men 
 in the world really were the hardened profligates 
 she had heard ; worse, even, than she could have 
 supposed ! But she had no words to speak her 
 feelings ; and preceded him to the door of the con- 
 vent, ringing her bell ^^dth a fury that spoke her 
 sense of the doubly dangerous nature of the in- 
 truder, against whom she was called on to warn the 
 lambs of the sheepfold.
 
 292 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 
 
 Coming round the cornqr of the front of the little 
 church, from the convent door, Giulio saw his friend 
 luxuriously reclining on the low terrace wall in the 
 cypress shade, engaged in watching with apparently 
 extreme interest the smoke from his cigar, as it 
 curled up to lose itself among the branches. 
 
 " Have I kept you too long ?" he said. 
 
 "Kept me too long!" cried Carlo; "could 
 anybody be kept too long in the beatified state in 
 which I have been revelling ! Feel this air ! look 
 at this view ! taste this cigar ! listen to the hum of 
 the insects in the silence ! smell the breeze from 
 the convent garden there ! How delicious is a 
 country life — till dinner-time!" 
 
 " Are we in good time 'i "
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 293 
 
 " Plenty of time ! We shall be in Florence 
 soon after mid-day. But what have you to tell 
 me ? Have you no report to present 1 " 
 
 " Birhante ! to think of your knowing all, and 
 leading me here blindfold !" 
 
 " I acted with a lofty and rigorous impartiality 
 that would have done credit to Olympian Jupiter, 
 arranging the affairs of mortals. I kept your 
 secret from her, and her secret from you ! Was 
 that discretion? Was that diplomacy? Talk of 
 Machiavelli, and Kichelieu, and the like ! Why, 
 they are bunglers, rustics to me ! Then as for the 
 prophetic branch of the business — ^what do you say 
 now to my announcement that your lady mother 
 should assist at your wedding before the new wine 
 is made ?" 
 
 " The grapes are swelling fast, Carlo ! I have 
 found my mother, it is true, thanks to you ! — and 
 such a mother I — but you forget how much more 
 still lies between this and the consummation you 
 promise." 
 
 " Ciarlel* It will all go upon wheels, I tell 
 you. The old Canon and that matchless absurdity. 
 La Zenobia, want to marry the Altamari heiress to 
 the Malatesta heir, don't they ? Ah, but there is 
 the lady herself ! Whom does she want to marry? 
 Who knows but what, directly her guardians declare 
 
 * *' Idle talk" — nonsenso !
 
 294 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 in. your favour, she will fall desperately in love 
 with the Signer Alfonso ! Girls are so capricious ! 
 That is what we have to fear ! You see it in that 
 light, don't you, Signor Marchese ?" 
 
 " If I had not been separated from you for the 
 last three years, I should know how to roast you ! 
 Were you ever in love ? " 
 
 **' Yes ! I've kno^\^l what 'tis to pine I" 
 
 " You look like it — veiy !" 
 
 " Don't wake sleeping memories ! — or dogs ! Let 
 'em lie I As soon as the weighing-chair announced 
 that the ravages of passion had reduced me below 
 twelve stone, I made a tremendous effort, a supreme 
 struggle with my heart, and was rewarded by 
 rapidly winning back my thirteen stone ! Such 
 are the fruits of vii'tue !" 
 
 " But I say. Carlo mio ! you were speaking just 
 now of that unfortunate Alfonso, my half-brother ! 
 What is to become of him ? " 
 
 " Become of him ! How should I know ? He'll 
 go out; and leave an unpleasant smell behind him, 
 like a bad lamp, I should think! Half-brother! 
 He can't be a tenth part yom' brother ! You have 
 no idea what an animal it is ! " 
 
 " I have heard something of him," said Giulio, 
 with a passing smile, as he remembered certain 
 passages in some of Stella's letters ; " but, all the 
 same, his position is a very shocking one ! "
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. ^95 
 
 ^^ He did not give himself any trouble about your 
 position ! " 
 
 " But then, you say, he is but a sorry sort of an 
 animal. Besides, I was brought up to nothing 
 else. His case is different. And he fancies that 
 he is going to marry Stella, too ! Poor wTetch ! 
 what a fall!" 
 
 " That fall mil break no bones, or hearts either ! 
 Bless your soul ! The little creature shook in his 
 shoes before La Zenobia, and was mortally afraid 
 of La Contessina herself. Nothing would have 
 kept him from running away from his matrimonial 
 campaign, but his still more mortal terror of the 
 Canonico, — who is, it must be o^^^ied, rather a 
 tenible man to play tricks with." 
 
 " Any way, he cannot be left to starve I Some 
 position must be fomid for him ! " rejoined Giulio. 
 
 " Starve ! no ! It can't take much to keep such 
 a body and soul as that together — if he has any 
 soul ! Che I che I che ! all that will arrange itself 
 easily enough! You will hardly live at Fenno, 
 when the old ^Marchese goes off ! Let the Signore 
 Alfonso take care of the old place there ! " 
 
 Thus chatting, the young men reached the door 
 of the Palazzo Brancacci, between twelve and one 
 o'clock, and found the Marchese Florimond waiting 
 for them according to agreement. 
 
 " Have you seen the Canonico, uncle ? " asked
 
 296 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Carlo, as soon as the latter had with marked cor- 
 diality greeted and welcomed Malatesta, and had 
 received the thanks of Giulio for the exertions 
 the Marchese Brancacci had made in his behalf. 
 "Have you prepared the way for the projected 
 interview ? " 
 
 " I have had a long, and I may be permitted to 
 say, an important interview Avith the Canonico 
 Altamari. The Canonico will be prepared to 
 receive my friend the Marchese Malatesta at any 
 hour he may be disposed to favom' him mth a call 
 after one o'clock. Our conversation was, as I have 
 said, a long one, — naturally so, considering the 
 highly interesting and important nature of the 
 communication I was honoured by permission 
 to make to him, and — and — and the numerous 
 points which presented themselves for discussion. 
 My friend the Marchese will natm'ally be in- 
 terested in a detailed account of the manner in 
 which — to the oest of my poor ability — I dis- 
 charged the commission, which my gracious — ^with 
 which, I would say, my friend the Marchese Mala- 
 testa honoured me. And I shall have much plea- 
 sure in making such a detailed report at some 
 future time of greater leisure. For the present, 
 taking into consideration the anxiety which it is, 
 perhaps, I may say natural, — though it is im-
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 297 
 
 possible to lose sight of the fact, that the social 
 position of the Marchese Malatesta" — (^^'ith a bow 
 and a smile that showed a whole ratelier of brilliant 
 false teeth) — " ought to put all such anxiety out of 
 the question; yet taking, I say, such a desire to 
 hear the result of my conversation with the Signor 
 Canonico into consideration, it may, perhaps, be 
 more agreeable to my friend the Marchese that I 
 should conamunicate to him in an epitomised, and, 
 perhaps I may be allowed to say, condensed form, 
 the substance of my — I may say — ambassorial 
 
 negotiations. 
 
 And there the Marchese Florimond paused, 
 looking from one to the other of the yomig men, 
 with the pleased consciousness that he was making 
 himself superlatively agreeable, and at the same 
 time exhibiting his distinguished fitness for the 
 highest and most delicate functions of diplomacy. 
 
 " That's it, uncle ! " said Carlo, nodding encou- 
 ragement. " Condense highly ! and out with it !" 
 
 ^' I have the Marchese's permission to be abruptly 
 brief ? " said the little man, looking winningly into 
 Malatesta's face. 
 
 " Certainly ! By all means !" said Giulio, whose 
 torture on the tenter-hooks of suspense had lasted 
 almost to the limits of his endurance. 
 
 " It becomes my dut}-, then, to tell you, Signor
 
 298 G-IULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Marchese, — as I trust you will believe me when I 
 say it is my pleasm^e, — that my friend — I may 
 indeed without impropriety say, my intimate friend 
 — the Canonico Adalberto, on hearing, not ^dthout 
 considerable — yes ! I do not feel myself at liberty 
 to conceal from you, without veri/ considerable — 
 sui'prise, the circumstances which I was authorised 
 to communicate to him; and on having satisfied 
 himself by an amount of cross-questioning, w^hich 
 I must take the liberty of considering, and indeed 
 of calling — at least among om'selves, if the Mar- 
 chese will pennit me to say so, and on the present 
 occasion — singularly searcliing and severe, that 
 there is — to put it bluntly and in vulgar language 
 : — no mistake about the matter;— the Canonico 
 Adalberto, I say, then, and not before, declared, 
 that it would be perfectly in accordance with his 
 views and wishes to accord the hand of the Con- 
 tessina Stella Altamari, his ward, to my valued 
 friend the Marchese Giulio Malatesta." 
 
 ^^Pooh!" grunted Carlo, and "Ah!" sighed 
 Giulio, wdth a sound like that of men drawing 
 breath after having had their heads under water. 
 
 " I think,'^ added the Marchese Florimond, look- 
 ing inquiringly from one of the young men to the 
 other, " that 1 am right in conceiving that to have 
 been — putting aside for the present, in considera- 
 tion of the press of circumstances, all those minor
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 299 
 
 points, of which I reserve a detailed discussion for 
 a more convenient opportunity, — the main scope, 
 and, as 1 may say, aim of my mission." 
 
 " Hit it in the centre of the bull's eye ! my dear 
 uncle, as your matchless tact and skill always does ! 
 And now you had better take Giulio at once to the 
 Canon ! " said Carlo. " I told you it would be all 
 plam sailing ! " he added, turning to Giulio. But 
 the injudicious observation was veiy near bringmg 
 down upon them another shower of the Marchese's 
 choicest rhetoric. 
 
 " Not altogether, it is perhaps right, and I may 
 say due to myself, to mention, such plain sailing, as 
 you somewhat coarsely term it " he began. 
 
 " Plain saiHng, Avith such a pilot as you, uncle ! 
 Assm-edly not otherwise, as I am sm-e Giulio is 
 well aware. Off with you to the Canonico. I 
 will wait for you here till you come back." 
 
 The Marchese felt himself rather unfairly cur- 
 tailed in the enjoyment to which he considered 
 himself honestly entitled in the matter; but being 
 thus drummed out, went off with Giulio without 
 further resistance, fully purposing to indemnify 
 himself at the commg interview with the Ca- 
 nonico. 
 
 They found that distinguished churchman evi- 
 dently waiting for them in his luxuriously furnished 
 study.
 
 300 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 "Signor Canonico," said the Marchese Flori- 
 mond, as they entered, ^' I have the pleasure, and I 
 request that you will believe that it is a very great 
 
 pleasure " 
 
 " Yes ! I am sure of it I It is a pleasure also to 
 me to make the acquaintance of the Marchese 
 Giulio Malatesta," said the Canon, stepping forward 
 gracefully, and offering his hand to Giulio, who 
 took it, bowing rather stiffly. 
 
 " The extraordinary, and perhaps I may even 
 
 say unparalleled " 
 
 " Yes ! indeed ! " said the Canon, remorsekssly, 
 interrupting the tortured little Marchese, " the 
 circumstances which the ^larchese has related to 
 me — and clearly substantiated — are indeed singular. 
 We have but to shape the course of our duty to 
 them." 
 
 ^' Such, I doubt not, will be the sentiments of 
 
 my friend ; and, if I may be permitted " 
 
 But it was e\'ident that the Canonico had no in- 
 tention of permitting anything of the sort. 
 
 " Undoubtedly ! we must all feel alike in this 
 matter. You, Signor Marchese, are a soldier, and 
 therefore know what duty is. We — soldiers under 
 another banner — are equally its bounden lieges. I 
 had, and have a duty to perform towards my niece, 
 the Contessa Stella Altamari. I deemed it for her 
 welfare to contract an alliance for her with the
 
 GIULIO S DIAGRAM. 301 
 
 son and heir of the Marchese Cesare ^Malatesta. I 
 still deem it so. My niece is reluctant, as young 
 girls in their inexperience often are, to fall in with 
 my ^-iews. She chd not fancy the gentleman, who 
 was supposed to hold the position which I con- 
 sidered a desirable one for her husband to oc- 
 cupy. And it became my duty to constrain her 
 obedience. It was a ver}- unpleasant duty. She 
 does fancy" — (with a smile and bow such as only 
 a polished and dignified churchman can execute) — 
 " as I am given to understand, the gentleman who, 
 most unexpectedly, is found to be the real holder 
 of that position. And my duty becomes a pleasant 
 one." 
 
 " I have the extreme happiness, then, Signor 
 Canonico, of understanding that I may ask in 
 marriage the hand of the Contessina Stella, with 
 the approbation of her family ? " 
 
 " Unquestionably so, my dear sir ; with the full 
 approbation of her family, and I trust I need not 
 doubt with that of yours also." 
 
 " The vers' remarkable circumstances which I 
 have had the good fortune, and I may, perhaps, 
 
 say " once agaih began the unhappy ]Marchese 
 
 Florimond ; but the Canonico Adalberto was too 
 much for him. 
 
 " Exactly so I my dear Marchese I " he said ; " I 
 was on the point of asking the Marchese Malatesta
 
 302 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 wlietlier any communication had taken place be- 
 tween liim and his father since these circumstances 
 were brought to lio-ht ? " 
 
 " Not directly between me and my father," said 
 
 Giulio; "but ^" 
 
 " I tmst, my dear sir," interrupted the Marchese 
 Florimond, " that you will not think I acted inju- 
 diciously in so doing ; but, as an old, and I may 
 say, perhaj)s, valued friend of the family into which 
 the Marchese Alfonso Avas about to many, I 
 thought it ad^dsable to let the Marchese Cesare 
 Malatesta know that some singular circumstances 
 had arisen, which appeared to make his immediate 
 presence in Florence desirable." 
 
 " It is probable, then, that we may shortly see 
 him here," said the Canon. 
 
 " Besides," said Giulio, " the whole circum- 
 stances of the case will have been formally com- 
 municated to him before this by the legal gen- 
 tleman I employed at Bologna." 
 
 " That is well ! " said the Canonico ; " you will 
 probably," he added, " think it j^roper to communi- 
 cate what you have now done me the honour of tell- 
 ing me, to the Contessa Zenobia ; — and, you will, 
 perhaps, think it ^^Zeasan^," continued the Canon, 
 smiling at his antithesis, " to make a similar com- 
 munication to the younger lady." 
 
 Giulio bowed, but the Marchese gave him no 
 chance of speaking.
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 303 
 
 " I purpose, T\-itli my friend the Marchese's good 
 leave," he said, '' presenting him to the Contessa 
 Zenobia this evening. Signor Giulio is akeady a 
 well kno\\Ti and valued acquaintance in Palazzo 
 Altamari; but I shall have the pleasure of pre- 
 senting him now for the fii'st time in, as I may say, 
 his proper person." 
 
 " 'Adieu, then, my dear sir, for the present ! " 
 said the Canon ; " we shall meet again to talk our 
 matters over more foiTually, when your excellent 
 father shall have anived here." 
 
 " Addio, Signor Canonico !" 
 
 "Well!" cried Carlo, meeting his uncle and 
 Giulio at the door, as they returned from their 
 important visit, " you found I was right in telling 
 you there would be no difficulty, eh? All went 
 well I" 
 
 "Humph!" grunted the Marchese Florimond, 
 who was by no means in his usual good humour, 
 *^that animalaccio of a Canonico gets worse and 
 worse ! Positively there is no bearing him ! A 
 priest -will be always a priest, polish him and 
 varnish liim as you vdW ! No more breeding than 
 a peasant ! Thank Heaven, my dear Marchese, that 
 when once you have married om' Contessina, you 
 need have nothing more to do with that intolerable 
 old bore!" 
 
 " Priests will be priests ! Che volete I " * said 
 
 * " What would vou have ?"
 
 304 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Carlo, winking at Malatesta ; " but as to the busi- 
 ness in hand, there was no difficulty, eh?" 
 
 " Difficulty ! no, of course not ! What diffi- 
 culty should there be ? And if the old fool" (he 
 was not above twenty years younger than the 
 Marchese Florimond) "would only have allowed 
 me to state the case to him, it would all have been 
 settled in half the time. But he took the words 
 out of my mouth in the rudest manner ! inter- 
 rupted me again and again ! and went on prosing 
 and prosing, as if he were preaching a Lenten 
 sermon, per Bacco, till his long-mnded rigmarole 
 made me positively sick ! If it had not been for 
 the sake of my friend the Marchese here, I should 
 have turned my back on him, and walked out ! 
 There is nothing I abominate like a lonsj-mnded 
 proser, who ivill speak, and then is so delighted 
 mth the sound of his own voice that he can't bring 
 himself to stop ! " 
 
 The little Marchese remained in happy uncon- 
 sciousness of the whole salvo of mnks with which 
 his doleances were received by his undutiful 
 nephew. 
 
 " This evening, then," said Carlo, " Giulio will 
 make his proposals in due form to the Contessa 
 Zenobia?" 
 
 " If the Signor Marchese is not too much dis- 
 gusted with the annoyances my affairs have already
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 305 
 
 caused him, and will kindly present me to La 
 Signora Contessa." 
 
 " It will be a great pleasure to me to do so, my 
 dear sir ! And I flatter myself — ^yes, I really may 
 be allowed to say I do flatter myself— that our in- 
 terview with the Contessa Zenobia A^dll be of a 
 more agreeable, and perhaps it would hardly be 
 going too far to say a more conveiiable, kind than 
 that which has just passed "with that ill-bred 
 priest." 
 
 " Hang him ! We'll think no more about him ! " 
 said Carlo. ^^ At what o'clock shall we be here to 
 accompany you to the Palazzo Altamari, uncle ? " 
 
 " Say at nine ! I have an engagement after 
 dinner that I cannot excuse myself from." 
 
 " At nine we ^yill be here ! Come along, 
 Giulio ! " 
 
 At the hour named the three gentlemen pro- 
 ceeded to the Palazzo Altamari, and by a little 
 management on the part of the Marchese were 
 received by the Contessa Zenobia alone in her 
 boudoir. 
 
 " Signora Contessa ! " said the Marchese, with 
 an air that might have formed a study for the 
 " introducer of ambassadors" to Louis the Four- 
 teenth, " I have the honour, and am sure you will 
 attach to my words all their full significance when 
 I add the great pleasure, of presenting to you the 
 
 VOL. III. X
 
 306 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 Marchese Giulio Maiatesta, dei Marcliesi [Malatesta 
 di Fermo." 
 
 Giulio bowed very gracefully, and looked very 
 handsome as lie did so, which the Marchese Flori- 
 mond felt was very creditable to him, the ^larchese 
 Florimond. 
 
 " Dieu de ma vie ! Marquis!" screamed the brisk 
 little lady ; " quest ce que vous me chantez la! I have 
 had the pleasure of knowing this gentleman before ; 
 and, foi de Biron ! it would have been a pleasui'e if 
 he had not given us all such a deal of botheration 
 about Stella ! You are a dangerous man. Monsieur 
 Mauvaisetete ! He ! he ! he ! positively a member 
 oi \\\Q classes dangereuses, parhleu ! You go about 
 stealing ladies' hearts ! Passe pour cela ! But you 
 want to steal then' hands too, which, la Sainte 
 Vierge me garde ! is quite another matter. I do not 
 know what the Canonico will say if he catches you 
 here ! " 
 
 " I am here, Gentilissima Signora Contessa" 
 said Giulio, smiling, " with the permission of the 
 Signor Canonico, for the pm'pose of asking you to 
 give me that, which you accuse me of wishing to 
 steal!" 
 
 " With the permission of the Canonico ! Diahle! 
 And pardon ! Monsieur Mauvaisetete ; but what is 
 this that our friend here the ^larchese is saying ? 
 I thought that you were — you know ! — Je suis sans
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAAI. 307 
 
 prejuges moi ! Ma foi ! — I thought you were Mon- 
 sieur Mauvaisetete, des Mauvaisetetes, as one may 
 say, after a fashion ; but he calls you the Marquis 
 Mauvaisetete !" 
 
 " Permit me, Ornatissima Signora Contessa^^ 
 said the Marchese Florimond, mth a floui'ish of 
 his white hand, " to explain the cu'cumstances, 
 which seem to yom- singularly lucid intelligence 
 and unerring discernment to involve a ceilam 
 degree of difficulty, which, I may perhaps be 
 allowed to say, without unduly exaggerating my 
 meaning, almost — almost I say — reach the limits 
 of inexplicability." 
 
 The Marchese drew breath, changed his attitude, 
 and prepared for a new exordium. 
 
 " Cut along! Marquis !" said the Contessa Ze- 
 nobia. 
 
 " My micle hates long-T\inded prosing m others 
 too much to be ever long liimself I" said Carlo, ^^ith 
 a look at Giulio. 
 
 " The Marchese Malatesta, Gentilissima Signora 
 Contessa, whose name you so fehcitously translate 
 mto the favom-ed language of which you are so 
 perfect and so graceful a mistress, is, as I have had 
 the honour of telling you, and as I am about to 
 have, if you ^^^ll kindly permit me, that of satis- 
 factorily — yes ! I may say — I think I may say ; — 
 nay, assuredly I may say, satisfactorily convincing 
 x2
 
 308 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 you — ay, CONVINCING you, no other than the Mar- 
 chese Giulio Malatesta, dei Malatesta, the heir to 
 the present Marchese Cesare, and the representa- 
 tive of that ancient and very illustrious family." 
 
 And then the Marchese Florimond, with an in- 
 tense enjoyment, which really he deserved after the 
 snubbing of the Canonico, proceeded to tell the 
 story he had to tell, with an amplitude of that 
 special rhetorical adornment of which he was so 
 great a master, but which may be more advanta- 
 geously perhaps, — nay, I may surely be allowed to 
 say certainly, — more advantageously left to the 
 imagination of the reader. He asked special per- 
 mission for the use of each epithet, doubted, 
 weighed the question, and finally decided in his 
 own favour, respecting the exact force of eveiy 
 adverb, and availed himself to the utmost of every 
 periphrasis provided by the wordy forms of Italian 
 courtesy. Giulio devoutly mshed that the Canonico 
 Adalberto had been there to dam the torrent, as he 
 had so ably done that morning. At last, however, 
 the Marchese brought his story reluctantly to an 
 end ; and the Contessa Zenobia, who had listened 
 to it with unexampled patience for her, cried : 
 
 " Che Kyrie-eleeson ! * What a story I Pa?' tons 
 
 * The Greek -words, " Kvpie eXerja-ov,'* recurring again and 
 again with wearisome repetition in the litanies and other services of 
 the Roman Catholic Church, are often irrevereutlj used by Italians 
 to signify any tedjons long rigmarole.
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 309 
 
 les saints et tons les diahles, there has been nothing 
 like it since the Conspiration des Fous contre les 
 Medecins, that Stella was reading about in her 
 histoiy of Florence this morning ! " 
 
 " Excuse me, Signora Contessa, if I confess that 
 I see neither madmen nor physicians in this matter," 
 said the Marchese Florimond in considerable per- 
 plexity. 
 
 " T^Hiat on earth has she got into that high-cbied 
 old brain of hers now !" muttered Carlo aside to 
 Giulio ; " Conspiration des Fous contre les Medecins I 
 What can she mean ? " 
 
 " Ah ! I have it !" said Giulio in the same tone, 
 " The Signora Contessa," he went on aloud, " is 
 alluding to the Conspiracy of the Pazzi against the 
 Medici r 
 
 " Parhleu I It's clear, I think ! You and I, 
 Monsiem' le Marquis Mauvaisetete, understand each 
 other, n^est cepas!^^ 
 
 " There must have been a conspiracy of the 
 kind she spoke of, I think, when she was allowed 
 to go at large !" said Carlo aside to his friend. 
 
 " I hope sincerely that we may always do so ! " 
 said Giulio, bowing low to the Contessa. 
 
 " I am sure we shall ! Pai^di ! It's a mercy that 
 dear Stella will escape that poor little apology for 
 a man, the Marquis Alphonse ! I must own that 
 the little puss knew how to choose for herself !
 
 310 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 He ! He ! He ! But you've given us a terrible time 
 of it, you and she between you ! He ! 
 
 C'est Vamour, Vamour^ I'amour, 
 Que fait le monde a la ronde! 
 
 N^est ce jjas^ Monsieur de Mauvaisetete. And now 
 I suppose you would like to see La Stellina, and 
 tell her all about it." 
 
 And so Stella, greatly wondering, was summoned 
 from her up-stairs exile, and the boudoir was, con- 
 trary to all Italian precedent, left to her and 
 Giulio, while La Contessa went to receive her 
 evening habitues. 
 
 Infinitely greater still was Stella's surprise, when 
 she found that the object for which she had been 
 sent for on this last evening before her departure 
 for the new convent, was to have a tete-a-tete with 
 Giulio in her aunt's boudoir. 
 
 " You have not made any promises, my Giulio ?" 
 said she, turning pale after their first passionate 
 greeting ; " you have not bought this interview at 
 the price of any concessions ! " 
 
 " I've made no promises, darling, save those 
 which I am ready to renew to you ; and I am here 
 to ask and not to make concessions ! " 
 
 And then he told her all the strange story, w^hich 
 accounted for his presence there, and for the 
 change in their prospects. 
 
 " I hope it won't make you grow like any of the
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 311 
 
 other Marcheses I kiiow," said Stella, playfully 
 pouting and looking fondly into his face the while, 
 after the first wonder of the extraordinar)'- tidings 
 had been discussed, a happy tear or two been shed, 
 and the new position in which Giulio stood towards 
 his love had been recognised, and the rights pertain- 
 ing thereto claimed and duly admitted. 
 
 " What ! not like the [Marchese Florimond, for 
 example, or the jNfarchese Alfonso ! " said Giulio, 
 •vN-ith mock astonishment. 
 
 " / won't call you Marchese ! " said Stella, " that 
 I promise you ! But tell me, my GiuHo, all about 
 your mother, your dear mother, who was dear to 
 me before she was deai' to you ! " 
 
 "Yes! my Stella! I know all about it! It is 
 written in my destiny that no good thing shall 
 come to me save through and by you ! I heard of 
 yom' generous, dear insistance that my mother 
 should make herself known to me ! IMy poor, dear 
 mother ! She was so sensitiAxly fearful ! The 
 dread lest, what she then thought her equivocal 
 position, should be a disadvantage to me — to us, 
 was so paramount ! ' Stella insisted on it ! ' she 
 said. ^ She knew all my unhappy story, and yet 
 she insisted on it ! ' All ! what a pleasure it was 
 to put all such timid misgivings to flight for 
 ever ! " 
 
 "It must, indeed, have been a meeting to re-
 
 312 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 member for ever, my Giulio! Were you able to 
 see her alone ? " 
 
 " No ! there was an old nun in the room all the 
 time ! She went fast asleep, though. But, oh ! 
 Stella, there happened the most absurd scene ! 
 You would have laughed to such a degree ! " 
 
 " Laughed ! I should not have guessed that there 
 had been anything to laugh at ! " said Stella, open- 
 ing ^vide her beautiful eyes. 
 
 "You shall judge! But it is impossible to 
 make you understand the scene without acting it ! 
 There is nothing like a diagram for rightly explain- 
 ing positions!" 
 
 "A diagram, Giulio, what is that?" inquired 
 Stella, innocently. 
 
 " You shall see ! We had come to the end of 
 our mutual explanations, and it was time to se- 
 parate, for Carlo was waiting outside the convent 
 to take me to my interview with your uncle. 
 There sat, or knelt rather, the old nun fast asleep 
 over her beads — there, we will suppose, close to 
 that door. It is a pity we have nobody to repre- 
 sent her part ! You must fancy her there ; — quite 
 fast asleep, you know ! My mother, who was sit- 
 ting, as it might be, just where you are sitting, got 
 up. (You must stand up.) I got up, too — thus ! 
 My mother put her arms up — so ! (You must do 
 it for the right understanding of what followed.)
 
 GIULIO'S DIAGRAM. 313 
 
 I, of course, caught her to my breast — Hke this. 
 She locked me tight in her arms! (You won't 
 catch the joke if the diagram is not complete !) 
 
 — That is correct ! We were just ^" 
 
 " No ! sir ! be quiet, Giulio ! One diagram is 
 quite enough ! " 
 
 " — just so, when looking up, we saw By- 
 Jove, the diagram is complete ! " cried Giulio, 
 bursting into a loud laugh. For, at that moment, 
 as they both looked up, there was standing, just 
 where the nun should have stood, Mademoiselle 
 Zehe, who, not having heard anything of the 
 sudden change in the Altamari politics, exhibited 
 all the horror requisite to the due presentment of 
 her part in GiuHo's httle drama. Unlike the 
 original performer, however, she did not stand her 
 ground, but rushed screaming, as if the house had 
 been in flames, into the adjoining room, where, for- 
 tunately, no strangers had yet arrived to join the 
 Contessa Zenobia and the Marchese and Carlo. 
 
 " Gracious Heavens ! What has happened ? 
 What is the matter ? " cried the Contessa. 
 
 " Cest trop fort ! cest une infamie ! I saw it 
 with my eyes ! " screamed ^lademoiselle Zelie ! 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I beg, and if I may be per- 
 mitted the use of such an expression, I adjure you, 
 to tell us what you have seen ? "' said the Marchese 
 Florimond.
 
 314 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 " Will you tell us, Monsieur de Mauvaisetete, 
 what on earth is the matter ? " said the Contessa, 
 turning to Gitdio, as he and Stella followed the 
 outraged duenna into the room. 
 
 " Evidently something which Mademoiselle Zelie 
 has never seen before ! " said Giulio, looking at 
 Carlo A^ith a laugh in his eye. 
 
 " He was only showing me a diagram, aunt ! " 
 said Stella, very demurely. 
 
 " A what ! child ? " asked the Contessa. 
 
 " I saw him kiss Mademoiselle ! " exclaimed the 
 exasperated Zelie, savagely. 
 
 " And they call that a diagram, now-a-days, do 
 they ? " said the Contessa Zenobia. " Que de nou- 
 velles anodes I Mais — pourvu que la chose reste 
 toujours la mSme I rCest ce pas, Monsieur de Mau- 
 vaisetete /"
 
 315 
 
 CHAPTER yn. 
 
 COXCLUSIOX. 
 
 Having followed the fortunes of Giulio Mala- 
 testa to the culminating point attained in the last 
 chapter, it t\411 scarcely be deemed necessary by 
 the lads and lasses — the " virgines puerique,'^ for 
 whose benefit we nineteenth - century trouveres 
 mainly indite our romaunts — that the sequel 
 of them should be traced in detail : 
 
 Ich liobt genossen das irdische Gluck 
 Ich hahe gelebt und geliebeU 
 
 'Tis the consummation ! the Pisgah-top, from 
 which a long-stretching -s^sta of tranquil happiness, 
 a whole promised land of peaceful fruition may be 
 seen, but which shall be equalled in its glory- by 
 no one spot of the smiling countiy to be traversed. 
 
 Not that the after-stretches of the road are not
 
 316 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 often exceedingly pleasant travelling. But we don't 
 gallop, and bound, and shy, and bolt over them in a 
 manner so interesting to others travelling the road. 
 Our pleasant progress is more after the fashion 
 somewhat disdainfully termed by ardent youth, 
 jog-trot ; the history of which may with advantage 
 be very compendiously told. 
 
 The Marchese and Marchesa Malatesta^Altamari 
 — (for the Canonico Adalberto succeeded in causing 
 that collocation of the names to be adopted) — 
 would be admitted by the most exclusive admirers 
 of domestic felicity after our own dear island 
 pattern, to be as happy a couple as the sun shines 
 on. They have two children, a boy and a girl. 
 And the boy is named, strangely enough, as many 
 people have thought, not Giulio, nor Cesare, nor 
 Adalberto, but Pietro; as if he were called, not 
 after his relatives, but after his tutor, the Professor 
 Pietro Varani, sometime of the University of Pisa. 
 The little girl, a lovely child, is called Maddalena. 
 There remains one fact of a tragic natm-e to be told 
 in connexion with the events that have been narrated; 
 a circumstance which was smTounded with so much 
 of mystery and strangeness, that it might of itself 
 furnish forth the materials for a story of Italian 
 life that would not be without interest, but which 
 may here be told with the utmost possible brevity, 
 as a notable instance of that retribution of circum-
 
 CONCLUSION. 317 
 
 stances ^Yllicll events work out more frequently, 
 perhaps, in countries less liegely subject to law 
 than our o^^ti. 
 
 The Marchese Cesare Malatesta never arrived in 
 Florence. It was very soon proved, however, that 
 he started from Fermo for the former city on the 
 receipt of the letter from the Marchese Florimond, 
 which the reader has seen. It appeared, also, that 
 the news of the declared validity of the Bologna 
 maiTiacre had reached Feimo from Bolocma, and 
 had become known in the former city some days 
 previously to the departure of the IMarchese from 
 Fermo. That time of the re-establishment of all 
 the old Papal despotism, after the brief gleam of a 
 better state of things, was a period of much law- 
 lessness and violence. The ecclesiastical states, 
 especially the more southern portions of them, were 
 infested by numerous bands of desperate men, who, 
 feeling that the world and the world's law was not 
 their friend, recurred readily to the old Italian 
 remedy of brigandage. Such a band was known 
 to be at that time in the mountains in the neigh- 
 bom'hood of Fermo. And when the two servants 
 who were traveUing with the ^Marchese Cesare, 
 came back declaring that the carriage had been 
 stopped, and their master shot dead, after being 
 robbed, by a number of men with crape over their 
 faces, it was accepted as a self-evident fact tliat he
 
 318 GIULIO MALATESTA. 
 
 had fallen into the hands of the brigands. And 
 nobody ever spoke aloud any other opinion. But 
 it was whispered, in the way such matters are, or 
 rather were, whispered of m Italy, that the brothers 
 of the Marchesa Ceciha Sampieri knew more of 
 the matter than anybody else in Fermo, except the 
 father confessor of that noble family; for they were 
 very religious men. 
 
 The Marchese Giulio was called, therefore, to the 
 enjoyment of his inheritance at a much earlier day 
 than would otherwise in all hmnan probability have 
 been the case ; a circumstance which was at least 
 so far satisfactory^, as that it enabled him and Stella 
 to await without impatience the time when liis 
 wife's inheritance should fall in; — a day which, 
 seeing that the Contessa Zenobia gave as gay a 
 supper as ever in her box at the Pergola last Car- 
 nival, may very probably be still distant. 
 
 The death of the Marchese Cesai'e, of coui'se, 
 also made the much-^\T.'onged wife a widow. The 
 peculiar nature of the circumstances of her case, 
 and the interest at Rome of several influential 
 persons, removed whatever difficulty there might 
 have otherwise been in procming for the late 
 Abbess of the Ursidines a chspensation from her 
 vows. But it is hardly necessaiy to say that the 
 only value of it to her is to enable her to Hve 
 under her son's roof, instead of in a convent, a
 
 CONCLUSION. 319 
 
 life almost as retired as that wliich the habit of 
 twenty years had made too familiar to her to be 
 changed without suffering. 
 
 One annual event breaks the otherwise change- 
 less tenor of her life. Every autumn she goes to 
 pass a few weeks at the lovely little village of 
 Belfiore, near Foligno. She does not allow either 
 her son or his wife to accompany her in this annual 
 pilgi'image to her "Holy Places," but is always 
 attended on these occasions by the much-valued 
 tutor in the Marchese's family, the Professor Pietro 
 Vai'ani. 
 
 THE END.
 
 C. WHITING, EBAUFORT HOUSE, STRAND.
 
 UNIVERSrTY OF ILLIN0I9-URBANA 
 
 12 056515213