FOOTNOTES:

[Q] Cosas de Argel.

[R] I can nowhere find the meaning of Jadraque.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XII.

As they travelled, they amused themselves by talking over the past

dangers, the good feeling of the Jadraque, the gallant conduct of the

Priest, the zeal of Rafaella, whom they had forgotten to question as

to how she had escaped from the power of the Turks when the assault

was made. However they guessed that she must have concealed herself

somewhere in order to gain her desire of living and dying a Christian.

They reached Valencia, but would not enter the town for fear they

should be detained there; but they could not fail of admiring its noble

situation, the excellence of its inhabitants, of which they had heard

so much, the pleasantness of its environs, and, finally, all that makes

it beautiful and rich beyond all other cities, not only in Spain, but

in all Europe; and chiefly they admired the beauty of the women, and

the pure and graceful language so sweet and pleasant, that none but the

Portuguese can compete with it in sweetness and pleasantness.

They determined to go on and to lengthen their days' journeys, even at

the risk of being fatigued, to reach Barcelona, where they heard they

might find vessels in which to embark for Genoa without going through

France.

Nothing of any importance happened on the way to Barcelona, unless

that they saw afar off the holy mountains of Montserrat, which they

worshipped with Christian devotion without designing to go there, as it

must have detained them.

They arrived at Barcelona at the moment when four Spanish galleys

were just entering the port, which fired a salute of heavy artillery.

Four boats were let down, one of which was adorned with rich carpets

from the Levant, and crimson cushions, and in it was seated a young

lady, richly dressed, with another older lady, and two young girls,

neatly attired. A crowd of people came out of the city, as is usually

the custom, both to look at the galleys and the persons who had come

in them; and curiosity led our pilgrims so near the boats when they

landed, that they nearly touched the lady as she stepped out of the

boat. She, casting her eyes around when she had got ashore, they

lighted upon Constance, and she said, "Come hither, lovely pilgrim,

and accompany me to the town, I have a debt to pay to you of which you

little think. Let your companions come likewise, for there is no reason

why you should leave such good company."

"Yours, as far as I can see, is so good," replied Constance, "that it

would indeed be senseless to refuse it; let us go where you please, my

friends will follow, for they never leave me."

The lady took Constance by the hand, and escorted by many gentlemen,

who had come out of the city to receive her, and by some of the people

who had landed from the galleys, they proceeded together to the town.

During their walk, Constance never took her eyes off her, trying, but

in vain, to remember where she had ever seen her before.

They took up their lodging in one of the best houses, and would

not suffer the pilgrims to go elsewhere. As soon as an opportunity

occurred, this discourse took place between them:--

"I would fain relieve you, my friends, from the wonder you must be

feeling, as to the cause I have for wishing to be of service to you,

and so I will inform you that my name is Ambrosia Agustina, and my

birth-place a city of Aragón. Don Bernardo Agustina is my brother,

and he commands those galleys that lie in the bay. Contarino de

Arbolanchez, a knight of the order of Aleantara, during my brother's

absence, secretly and unknown to my relations, fell in love with me,

and I, led by my destiny, or, perhaps, by my too great weakness, with

the title of wife, made him master of myself and my whole heart. The

same day on which I gave my hand to him, he received an order from the

king instantly to set off and conduct a regiment of Spanish infantry

(just come from Lombardy to Genoa) to Malta, where it was expected

that the Turks would make a descent. Contarino obeyed without delay

the orders he received; without being moved by my tears, he departed.

I felt as if the sky had fallen upon my head, and that my heart was

pressed down between it and the earth. A few days passed, when as one

scheme after another entered my brain, I resolved to put one into

execution, the accomplishment of which had well nigh cost me both life

and honour. I left my home in the disguise of a man, the dress of a

young page which I took, and engaged myself as servant to a drummer in

a regiment about eight leagues off; I soon learned to beat the drum as

well as my master, and to play the part of a buffoon like those of my

profession. Another regiment joined ours, and both together marched to

Carthagena, in order to embark in the galleys commanded by my brother.

It was my intention to go over to Italy, and seek my husband, from

whose affection I hoped that my rash conduct would escape censure, and

that he would not find fault with my wish to see him, which made me

so blind that I never considered the risk I ran of being discovered,

if I embarked in my brother's galley; but as no difficulties deter an

enamoured heart, and it sees none which it cannot conquer, no fears it

cannot oppose, no roughnesses it cannot make smooth, I resisted all

these, and hoped even in a kind of desperation. But, as the event of

things often turns out different to what we expect, so mine, as ill

considered as it was imprudent, placed me in the situation you soon

shall hear. The soldiers of the regiments I mentioned, engaged in a

cruel affray with the people of a town in La Mancha, about lodgings,

the result of which was, that a certain count of some place, the name

of which I do not know, received his death-wound. There was an enquiry

made by the court, the captains were taken into custody, the soldiers

separated, and some, among whom I, for my misfortune, was one, though

quite guiltless of any fault, condemned to the galleys to work two

years at the oar. In vain I lamented my fate, seeing how all my plans

were frustrated; I would gladly have died, but the fear of a yet worse

fate in another world made the knife drop from my hand, and the rope

from my throat; all I did was to endeavour to deform my face, and

make myself as ugly as I could, and then shut myself up in a cart we

were put into, with the intention of weeping so much and eating so

little, that grief and hunger might do what the cord and the knife had

left undone. We reached Carthagena, where the galleys were not yet

arrived; we were put into a house and well guarded, and there in fear

and trembling I awaited my fate. I know not, sirs, if you recollect a

cart which came up with you near a small inn, when this lovely pilgrim

(pointing to Constance) helped to restore a fainting prisoner with some

cordials."

"Yes," said Constance, "I remember it well."

"Then know that it was I whom you assisted," said the lady Ambrosia.

"From the place where I lay in the cart I could see you all, and

admired you, for your appearance was such that it was impossible to

look and not admire.

"The galleys came in at last with a Moorish brigantine that they had

taken; the same day the soldiers were put on board in irons, the

clothes they wore were taken off, and they were dressed in those worn

by the rowers. A sad and miserable change, yet light, for the hardship

that does not destroy life, custom will at last alleviate. They came

to undress me, the boatswain ordered them to wash my face, for I had

not strength to lift an arm; the barber who attended the crew looked at

me and said, 'I shall spoil but few razors with this beard. I wonder

what they have sent us this boy for, who looks as if he was made of

china ware, as if our galleys were made of gingerbread, and our oars

of sweetmeat. Eh, boy, what crime hast thou committed to deserve this

punishment? I doubt not but that thou art brought to this by the sins

of others;' and then continuing his discourse to the boatswain, he

said, 'Truly, master, it would be much better to send this boy to the

general with a chain to his leg, for at the oar he won't be worth a

farthing.'

"This talk, and the thoughts of my misfortune, which now seemed to

have reached its climax, so overcame me that I fell down in a swoon,

and lay as if dead. I have been told that it was four hours before I

came to myself, during which time they had done everything in their

power to restore me to my senses, and what I should most have felt,

if I had been conscious, was, that they must have discovered I was no

man, but a woman. I recovered at last, and the first thing I saw was

the face of my brother and of my husband, the latter held me in his

arms. I do not know how it was that I did not die that moment; I do not

know how it was that my tongue did not cleave to the roof of my mouth;

all I know is, that I knew not what they said to me; but, I heard my

brother say, 'What means this dress, my sister?' and my husband said,

'What is this disguise, my soul? If I did not know so well your virtue

and honour, my sweet wife, this dress should be exchanged only for a

shroud.' 'Your wife?' said my brother, 'this seems as strange a story

to me as it is to find her thus disguised; but if it be true, it would

be a sufficient recompense for the trouble it causes me to see her

thus.'

"At this instant I had begun to recover my scattered senses, and I

remember that I said, 'Dear brother, I am Ambrosia Agustina, thy

sister, I am also the wife of Señor Contarino de Arbolanchez; Love, and

thy absence, O my brother, gave him to me as a husband; but, on the

wedding day he left me, and I, rash, desperate, and inconsiderate, set

off to seek him in this disguise.' Then I told them all the story I

have already narrated, and I had the good fortune (for now my fortune

was beginning to amend) to find that they believed me, and pitied me.

I then heard that my husband had been taken prisoner with one of the

two vessels in which he had sailed for Genoa, and that it was only two

days ago that he had recovered his liberty, and had had no time or

opportunity to see my brother till the moment of my fainting. Events

so strange are hardly credible, yet it is all as I have said. In these

galleys the lady whom you saw with me was going to Italy with her two

nieces; her son has the charge of the royal patrimony in Sicily; they

supplied me with the dress I now wear, and my husband and brother

sent us on shore to refresh and amuse ourselves, and see the friends

that they have in this city. If you are going to Rome, I will make

my brother convey you to the nearest seaport. The case of cordials I

would fain repay with the best I possess; and if I should not myself

go to Italy, I would ask my brother to take my debt upon him. This, my

friends, is my history; if you should find it hard to believe I cannot

wonder; but there is a common saying that it is courtesy to believe,

and, in yours, which must be great, I place my credit."

Thus the fair Ambrosia ended her story; and now her hearers began to

express their interest and admiration, and to discuss the different

circumstances of the case; and then Constance and Auristella began

embracing Ambrosia, who was to return to her home by her husband's

desire, because, however charming and lovely she may be, the company of

a wife is embarrassing in times of war to a husband.

That night the sea ran very high, so much so that it was necessary to

loosen the galleys that were anchored in the bay, which in this part

was not safe for them. The courteous Catalans, a people terrible when

angry, and most supremely courteous when at peace, to maintain both

which qualities they almost outdo themselves, which is therefore

outdoing all other nations, visited and feasted the Lady Ambrosia as

much as was possible.

Auristella, who had learned by experience what it was to encounter a

storm at sea, would not embark in the galleys, but determined to go

by way of France, which was then quiet. Ambrosia returned to Aragón.

The galleys continued their voyage, and the pilgrims their journey,

entering France by way of Perpignan.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIII.

Our party wished to take Perpignan as their first entrance into France.

The adventures of Ambrosia furnished them with conversation for some

days, her great youth forming some excuse for her many errors, and they

all were disposed to find pardon for her rashness in the great love

she bore her husband. She had, as I before said, returned home to her

own country; the galleys had gone on their voyage, and our pilgrims on

their journey.

They travelled through the land of France, and passing through

Languedoc, entered Provence, where, in an inn at which they rested,

they found three ladies of such extraordinary beauty, that, had not

Auristella been in the world, they might have borne away the palm of

beauty. They seemed to be of high degree, judging by their retinue and

attendants. They, on seeing the pilgrims, were struck by the grace

of Periander and the peerless beauty of Auristella and Constance;

they went up to them, and, with smiling countenances and courteous

demeanour, asked who they were in the Castilian tongue, for they

perceived that they were Spanish pilgrims; and in France there is

neither man nor woman but learns the Spanish language. Whilst the

ladies were waiting for Auristella's reply, to whom they had addressed

themselves, Periander had stepped aside to converse with a servant, who

appeared to belong to the illustrious Frenchwomen, asking him who they

were, and whither going; and he answered, "The Duke de Nemours, who

is of the blood-royal in this country, is a gallant and very prudent

gentleman, but withal he loves his pleasures; he has lately come into

possession of his inheritance, and is resolved to marry, not to please

others, but to choose for himself, even though he is offered great

increase of wealth and property, and although he is acting contrary to

the king's commands; but, he says, that kings may give what wives they

choose to their vassals, but he does not choose that they should give

one to him. With this fantasy, or folly, or wisdom, or whatever you

please to call it, he has despatched some of his servants to different

parts of France in search of women, who must, besides being of high

birth, be beautiful, for him to select a wife from among them. He

does not care for wealth, but is satisfied to let her portion be her

qualities and her beauty. He had heard of these three ladies, and sent

me, who am in his service, to see them, and have their portraits taken

by a famous painter, who travels with me; all three are free from any

engagement; all are young, as you perceive; the eldest, who is called

Delicia, is very sensible, but poor; the middle one, whose name is

Bellarmina, is high-minded and witty, and moderately rich; the least

of the three is called Felicia Flora, she is much the richest of all.

They are all acquainted with the duke's desire, and I have a conjecture

that each lady would gladly be the chosen one. Having an opportunity to

go to Rome for the jubilee of this year, which is the Centenary, so

kept according to custom, they have left their homes, and mean to go

to Paris and see the duke, hoping, perhaps, that this may be of some

avail. But, Sir Pilgrim, since you have come here I have determined to

carry my master a present, which will entirely put an end to any hopes

these ladies may have conceived, for I intend to take him the portrait

of this fair pilgrim who is with you, for she is the sole queen of all

earthly beauty; and if she was but as highly born as she is beautiful,

my master's servants would have no further to go, nor he anything more

to desire. Tell me, sir, on your life, if this pilgrim is married, what

is her name, and what her parentage?" To which Periander tremblingly

replied, "Her name is Auristella; she is on her way to Rome, and who

her parents are, she has never told anybody; that she is free and

unmarried I can assure you, for that I know without a doubt; but there

is another thing to be said, which is, that she is so independent and

mistress of her own will, that she will never submit it to any earthly

prince, because, she says, that she will submit it only to a heavenly

one; and to convince you that this is the truth, learn that I am her

brother, and acquainted with her most secret thoughts; so it will be

of no use at all to have her picture taken, but would serve only to

disturb the mind of your master, if by chance he should feel disposed

to overlook the humble birth of our parents."

"Notwithstanding this," said the other, "I must have the picture if

only for curiosity, and that France may be made acquainted with this

new miracle of beauty."

So saying, they took leave of each other, and Periander wished to

quit the place directly, that the painter might not have time to take

Auristella's portrait. Bartholomew had to get the mule ready afresh,

and again began to be out of sorts with Periander for being in such a

hurry to move.

The duke's servant, seeing that Periander meant to depart immediately,

came to him and said, "I would fain, sir, have entreated you to stay

a short time in this place, if but until night, that my painter might

have time and space to take the likeness of your sister; but you may go

in peace, for the painter assures me that though he has only seen her

once, her image is so fixed in his imagination that he can paint her by

himself quite as well as if he was looking at her."

Periander cursed the rare skill of the artist in his heart, but not

the less for this did he wish to be gone; taking leave directly of

the three charming Frenchwomen, who embraced Auristella and Constance

warmly, and offered to take them to Rome along with their party, if

they pleased. Auristella thanked them in the most polite manner she

knew, telling them that she obeyed her brother Periander in all things,

and that neither she nor Constance could stay behind, since _her_

brother Antonio and Periander were going. So they departed, and in

about a week they arrived at a place in Provence; what happened there

will be told in the next chapter.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIV.

History, poetry, and painting resemble one another, and so it appears

that in writing history, one paints a picture; in painting, one

composes a story; history does not always treat of weighty matters,

neither does the painter always choose great or magnificent subjects

for his pencil; poetry is not always in the clouds; history must treat

of base deeds; painting has grass and furze in her pictures, and poetry

exalts humble things. These truths are shown in our history.

It was noon, the sun's rays shot down vertically upon the ground, and

the heat was very great; many pleasant looking houses were scattered

over the peaceful plains through which they were now travelling, where

the gentry of this country passed the greater part of the year, seldom

quitting them for a town life. Our travellers had arrived near one of

these, which was a little distant from the high road; the shadow cast

by a tall tower of the dwelling, invited them to take their siesta

there, as the heat threatened to be great. The careful Bartholomew

unloaded his mule, and spread a carpet on the ground; they seated

themselves in a circle, and prepared to make their repast upon the

provisions that Bartholomew had taken care to provide, which were

welcome, for they were beginning to feel hungry; but, hardly had they

raised their hands to their mouths, when Bartholomew, looking up, cried

out, "Get away, gentlemen! ladies, get away quickly! here is something

tumbling down from the skies, I know not what, but it will not be well

to have it fall on us." They looked up, and saw a figure coming down

from above, which, before they could tell what it was, fell almost at

Periander's feet. The figure proved to be a very pretty woman who had

been thrown from the top of the tower; but, her clothes serving as a

bell, supported her like wings, and she got up unhurt, a thing quite

possible without any miracle. However, the event left her in a state

of great agitation and fright, as also was the state of those who had

seen her fall. In the tower, loud shrieks and screams were heard from a

woman whom they saw struggling with a man, and it seemed as if each was

endeavouring to throw the other over.

"Help, help!" cried the woman, "Help me, gentlemen, for this madman

wants to throw me down from the tower!"

The flying woman, now somewhat recovered, said, "If any of you are bold

enough to go up through that door, (pointing to one at the foot of the

tower,) you might save my children and other helpless creatures from

the mortal danger they are in."

Periander, impelled by his generous feelings, instantly went in, and,

in a few minutes they saw him on the top of the tower engaged with

the seeming madman, from whom he had taken a knife, and was trying

to defend himself; but fate had determined that the tragedy of the

man's life should end here, and both fell together from the height on

the ground below. The madman had stabbed himself with the knife that

Periander held, and Periander's eyes, nose and mouth were streaming

with blood; for as he had no petticoats to sustain him, the fall took

its effect, and he lay lifeless upon the earth.

Auristella, seeing him thus, immediately supposed him dead; she threw

herself upon his body, and, without caring who saw her, she pressed

her mouth to his, as if she expected to receive some last breath or

last token; but although there had been any such, she would not have

received it, because the firmly-closed teeth would have denied its

exit. Constance was in no condition to lend her aid, for she stood as

if transfixed on the spot, her feet glued to the ground, as though she

was taking root there, or as if she had been a marble statue. Antonio

flew to assist the sufferers, and to separate the living from those he

believed were dead corpses. Bartholomew was the only one of the party

whose eyes expressed the grief that he felt in his heart, and he was

weeping loudly.

All being in this deep affliction, whilst as yet no one had uttered a

word of speech, it was seen that a troop of people was approaching,

who had probably from the high road perceived the persons falling from

the tower, and came to ask what had happened. It was the travelling

party of the three beautiful French ladies, Delicia, Bellarmina, and

Felicia Flora. As soon as they came up, they recognized in Auristella

and Periander the two pilgrims, whose marvellous beauty left an

impression never to be forgotten by any one who had ever seen them.

Scarcely had their compassion caused them to alight, in order to give

some assistance if possible to the distress they saw before them,

when they were assailed from behind by seven or eight armed men, who

fell suddenly upon them; at sight of this, Antonio seized his bow

and arrows, which were never far off, and which he always kept ready

for defence or offence. One of the ruffians had seized upon Felicia

Flora, and placed her on his saddle before him; then, turning to his

companions, he said, "It is done, this one will do; let us be off."

Antonio, who saw this discourteous act, fitted an arrow to his bow,

extended to the utmost his left arm, and drew the string with his

right till it touched his right ear, so that the two extreme points of

the bow almost met, then, taking the robber who held Felicia Flora as

his mark, let fly his arrow; without touching Felicia Flora, except

a portion of the veil which covered her head, it pierced the ruffian

through the body: one of his companions hastened to avenge him, and,

without giving Antonio time to fit a second arrow to his bow, he

dealt him so violent a blow on the head, that he fell to the ground

senseless. At this sight, Constance left off being a statue, and flew

to her brother's assistance. The force of kindred blood was such that

it warmed hers, which had frozen at the sight of a friend's sorrow;

both, signs of strong affection.

By this time people had come out of the house armed, and the servants

in the suite of the three ladies, who were unarmed, had collected

stones, and came to the defence of their mistresses. The robbers, who

saw their leader dead, and that so many persons were collected, began

to think they should gain nothing by the enterprise, and that it would

be madness to risk their lives for one who could no longer reward them;

they therefore turned their backs and fled, leaving the field free.

Hitherto, in this affray, few sword strokes had been heard; no warlike

instruments of music had sounded, the wail of the living over the

dead had not yet been heard, but in bitter silence the sorrowing ones

kept their grief within their lips, only some sad moans and sobs had

issued from the breasts of the miserable Auristella and Constance, each

one closely embracing her brother, without being able to utter those

complaints which relieve the breaking heart. But, at length, heaven

not having ordained that they should die thus suddenly, and without

complaint or lamentation, untied their tongues, which had been cleaving

to the roof of their mouths, and Auristella burst forth in these

words:--

"Unhappy that I am, how am I to seek for any breath in a dead body, or

how should I be able to feel it, if I am so deprived of it myself that

I know not whether I can speak or breathe. Alas, my brother! and what a

fall was this, that has so destroyed all my hopes; alas! and could not

your high lineage save you from this misfortune? But would it have been

so great if you were not so high? The highest mountains attract the

lightning, and where it meets with most resistance it does the greatest

harm; you were a mountain, but a humble mountain, for you concealed

yourself from the eyes of men in the shade of your wisdom and your

ability; you were going to seek your fortune in mine, but death has

cut short the intention, and mine is going with it to the tomb. What

will the queen, your mother, do, when the news of your unexpected death

reaches her ears? Alas! woe is me, once more alone in a foreign land,

like the poor ivy torn from her natural support."

These words about queens, and mountains, and greatness, caught the

attention of the listening bystanders, and increased their wonder;

Constance, who held her wounded brother in her lap whilst the

compassionate Felicia Flora tried to staunch the blood with her own

handkerchief, spoke thus:--

"Alas!" she said, "my protector, what avails it that fortune has raised

me if misfortune is to destroy me. Return to me, O my brother! if you

wish that I should return to my senses; or, if not, ye pitying heavens,

let our eyes be closed in death together, and one grave receive our

bodies, for the good fortune I met with so unexpectedly can bring no

better boon than a speedy end." So saying, she fell fainting on the

ground; and Auristella was no better off, so that they seemed more dead

than the wounded ones.

The lady who fell from the tower, the chief cause of Periander's fall,

ordered her servants, several of whom had come out of the house, to

carry him to the bed of Count Domicio, her lord and husband; she

likewise commanded them to take his body up that it might receive

burial; Bartholomew took the young Antonio in his arms; the ladies had

charge of Auristella and Constance, and, in mournful procession and

with slow steps, they moved along to the almost regal looking mansion.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XV.

The sage advice that the three French ladies gave to the two mourners,

Constance and Auristella, was of small avail, for in a recent grief

there is no room for consolation. In the agony of a sudden disaster

we cannot accept at once of any comfort, however wisely it may be

administered; a fresh wound is painful till it is closed, and it takes

time to heal before it is again opened; therefore, whilst one weeps,

whilst one groans, whilst one is under the influence of the grief that

causes one's lamentations and sighs, it is not discreet at all to offer

remedies. Let us then leave Auristella still to weep, and Constance to

lament, and both to shut their ears to all consolation, whilst the fair

Clarice relates the cause of her husband's madness.

She told the French ladies, that, before he married her, he was in

love with a relation of his own, who had every expectation of marrying

him. "My lot seemed to promise fair, only to become the darker in

the end," said Clarice; "for Lorena, (so this relation was called,)

concealing the anger she felt at our marriage, used to load him with

a variety of presents, the most agreeable and pleasing, rather than

costly; among which, she sent him once, much as the false Dejanira

sent the shirt to Hercules, I say she sent him some shirts of the

finest linen and of beautiful workmanship. Scarcely had he put one on,

when he became senseless, and for two days lay like a corpse, although

we directly took it off, fancying that it had been bewitched by a

slave of Lorena's, who was supposed to be a dealer in magic arts. My

husband was restored to life, but his mind was so disturbed and upset,

that everything he did was like the act of a madman, and not a quiet

madman, but so cruel, furious and wild, that it became necessary to

chain him; and, to-day, I being in the tower, he contrived to escape

from his place of confinement, and flung me through the upper windows,

but I was preserved by my wide garments, which bore me up, or rather, I

ought to say, by the mercy of God, who protects the innocent." Then she

told how the pilgrim had gone up into the tower to the assistance of

another woman, one of her attendants, whom he was also trying to throw

over, and with her were two little children whom he wished to strangle,

but that the event was that the count and the pilgrim had been dashed

down from the tower to the ground below, the count, wounded mortally,

and the pilgrim having a knife in his hand, which it appeared he had

wrested from the madman, his wound was such that it needed not the fall

to kill him, the wound was enough in itself.

Meantime, Periander still lay senseless on the bed where they had

placed him, and where the surgeons came to see him and set the

dislocated bones. They gave him medicines proper for his case, felt his

pulse, and, by degrees, he came a little to himself, and knew some of

the persons who stood round him, especially Auristella, to whom, in a

scarcely audible voice, he said, "Sister, I die in the holy Catholic

faith, and I die loving you." He could say no more, and did not speak

again at that time. They bled Antonio, and the surgeons having examined

his wound, demanded a reward for the good news they were able to give

his sister, that it was deep, but not mortal, and that they would

promise to cure him by the help of heaven. Felicia Flora rewarded them

handsomely first, and Constance afterwards; and the surgeons, not to be

over scrupulous, took it from both.

It took a month and rather more for the invalids to be cured: the

French ladies would not hear of leaving them, so great a friendship

had sprung up between them and Auristella, and Constance and their two

brothers; Felicia Flora, especially, could not quit Antonio's bedside,

loving him with a gentle affection, so delicate, that it only seemed

kind feeling and gratitude for the deed he had done in saving her when

his arrow freed her from the grasp of Rupertino, who was, she told

them, a gentleman, lord of a castle not far from her own, and that he,

impelled by a desperate passion, not by real love, had long followed

and persecuted her to marry him; but that she knew well both by

experience and by the voice of common fame, which seldom lies, that the

character of Rupertino was harsh and cruel, and that his disposition

was changeable and capricious, for which reason she had refused his

suit. She guessed, therefore, that furious at her disdain, he had made

this attempt to seize her person by force, since she would not give

herself to him willingly; but the arrow of Antonio had cut short his

wicked designs, and that for this she felt most grateful.

When at length the moment came that the invalids felt health

returning, and by their reviving strength showing signs of this; also,

with health, revived their wish to pursue their journey: they therefore

set to work to provide all things necessary for this. As I before said,

the French ladies would not separate from the pilgrims, and already

began to treat them with more respect and admiration, since, from the

words that were uttered by Auristella in her wild grief, they had an

idea of their being persons of very high quality, for sometimes majesty

clothes itself in sackcloth and grandeur conceals itself in humility.

In fact, they regarded them with perplexity; the poor retinue they had,

looked as if they were persons of middling condition, but the grace and

elegance of their manners, and their extreme beauty, made them seem of

almost heavenly birth. Thus they continued to be in doubt with respect

to their real rank and quality. It was decided by the French ladies

that they should travel on horseback, because Periander's fall had

made it impossible for him to go on foot. The grateful Felicia Flora

would not quit the side of Antonio, and discoursing upon the daring

act of Rupertino, whom they left dead and buried, and of the strange

history of the Count Domicio, whom his cousin's fatal gifts had first

deprived of reason, then of life, and also of the miraculous flight of

his wife, more wonderful than credible; they arrived upon the banks of

a river which was fordable with some trouble. Periander was of opinion

that they should seek a bridge, but all the rest objected to this, and,

just as a flock of sheep when all crowded in a narrow space, one makes

itself a way out and all the rest directly follow, so Bellarmina dashed

into the stream, and all followed her example; Periander, however,

never quitting Auristella's side, nor Antonio that of Felicia Flora,

his sister, Constance, being also close by him. Now fate so willed it

that the rapid motion of the water affected Felicia Flora's head, so

that she fell off her horse into the middle of the river; but, quick as

thought, the gallant Antonio darted after her, and upon his shoulders

bore her, like a second Europa, safe to the opposite shore. She,

seeing his quick action, said, "Thou art very courteous, Spaniard." To

which Antonio replied, "If my courteous deeds did not spring from your

dangers, they might be estimable; but, born as they are of them, they

rather grieve than gladden me."

The party at last all passed over, and reached at nightfall a

farmhouse, which was also an inn, in which they found lodging to their

liking; and what happened to them here demands a new style and a new

chapter.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVI.

Things sometimes happen in this world, that if people were beforehand

to devise or project them, they never could succeed in so doing,

and so from that and their rarity they pass as apocryphal, and are

not believed to be as true as they are, and it is necessary to help

people's belief by swearing to the truth, or, at least, it requires

that the relator should be a person of good credit, although, for

my part, I am of opinion that it is best not to tell them at all,

according to the advice in the old Castilian adage,--

"Very wonderful things

Should never be told,

For it is not every one

That can enter into them."

Our pilgrims had not been long in the inn when Bartholomew came and

said, "Make haste, sir, and come and see the most extraordinary

sight you ever saw in your life!" He said this in such a scared and

frightened manner, that, thinking they were going to see some very

strange thing, they followed him, and in a part of the house at some

distance from that in which the pilgrims and the ladies were lodged,

they saw through some matting an apartment entirely hung with black,

the murky darkness of which prevented them from seeing distinctly what

was in it. Whilst they were looking at it, an old man, also dressed in

black, came up to them, and said, "Gentlemen, if you wish to see the

Lady Ruperta without her seeing you, I will contrive it so that you

shall be gratified; in about two hours after midnight you will have an

opportunity of seeing what will surprise you, both as to her beauty and

behaviour."

"Sir," said Periander, "our servant, that you see here, brought us to

see a wonder, but we have seen nothing yet, except a room hung with

black, which is not wonderful at all."

"If you will return hither at the hour I have named," replied the man

in black, "you shall see what will surprise you; for you must know that

in this apartment lodges the Lady Ruperta, who was, not quite a year

ago, the wife of Earl Lambert, of Scotland, which marriage cost him his

life, and has placed her in danger of losing it every hour; for Claudio

Rubicon, a gentleman of very good family in Scotland, whose great

wealth and ancient lineage rendered him proud and overbearing, and he

being also of a warm temperament, loved my mistress when she was a

maiden; but she, whether she disliked him or not, at any rate, rejected

him, and showed her disdain of his addresses by marrying the earl my

master. This hasty act of hers seemed as if it was a proof of contempt

and aversion to Rubicon, as if the fair Ruperta had not parents who

fixed and directed her choice, and, added to which, the years of the

husband chosen for her, were far better suited to her own; and it is no

doubt desirable that this should be considered in a marriage, although

it is good for the husband to have the advantage in point of age. Now

Rubicon was a widower, and far from young, and he had a son of about

twenty or one-and-twenty years old, a young man extremely amiable,

and of a much better disposition than his father, indeed, had it been

he who had offered himself, my master might be still alive, and my

mistress happier.

"It chanced then that my lady and her husband being at a country seat

of his where they had gone to enjoy themselves together, one day, in

a lonely spot, they suddenly met Rubicon, attended by a strong party

of his servants. At the sight of my lady all the fury he had felt at

the injury he conceived she had done him, was aroused, and, instead

of love, hate and rage sprang up in his soul, and a desire to revenge

himself on her; and as the revenge of a despised lover far surpasses

the offence given, so Rubicon, enraged and desperate with jealousy and

hate, drew his sword, and ran the earl my master through the body,

crying, 'If this be cruelty, far greater has been that of thy wife to

me, for her disdain has tortured me a hundred thousand times!'

"I was present during this scene, these ears heard his words, and these

eyes saw the blow given, and with these hands did I endeavour to close

the wound. I heard the lamentations of my mistress which pierced the

air. We returned to the spot afterwards to remove the body for burial,

and by her command the head was cut off, and, in a few days, by dint of

certain applications used, all the flesh was removed from the skull.

She had a silver case made to hold it, and, placing her hand thereon,

she made the following vow: but I forgot to mention that the cruel

murderer, either from forgetfulness, or in his fury, or possibly from

the hurry of mind he must have been in, left his sword sticking in my

lord's body; and his blood even now looks fresh upon the blade. I was

going to tell you that she pronounced these words:--

"'I, the hapless Ruperta, to whom God gave the fatal gift of beauty,

make this vow before high Heaven: with my hand placed on these sad

relics, I swear to revenge my husband's death by all the means in

my power, and with all diligence, though I were to risk therein

my miserable life a thousand times. No dangers shall scare me, no

entreaties shall avail to soften me, and until I have succeeded in

effecting this my just, if not Christian resolve, I swear that my

apparel shall be black, my apartments hung with the same gloomy hue, my

attendants shall wear mourning, and I will have no company, but live in

solitude; at every meal I will have these relics present, which keep

up the torment of my soul; this head, which shall, without a voice,

command me to revenge its injury; this sword, on which I seem to see

the yet streaming blood, shall, by kindling mine, leave me no rest

until I am avenged!'

"After speaking thus, her tears seemed to flow less incessantly,

and her sighs and complaints became more moderate. She then began

to arrange a journey to Rome, to obtain there from some powerful

personages, aid and protection against the murderer of her husband, who

still threatens her.

"Now, sirs, you will see what I have told you if you come in about two

hours from this time; if you are not moved and astonished by it, either

I have told my story ill, or your hearts must be of marble."

Here the mourning squire ceased speaking, and the pilgrims, even

without having seen Ruperta, were filled with wonder and compassion for

her case.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVII.

Anger is said to be a revolution of the blood about the heart, which

warms up at sight of the object which inflamed it, and sometimes with

the bare recollection of the offence. It hath for its final goal and

resting place, vengeance, which, when it is taken upon the offender

with or without reason, calms the ire. This would lead us to suppose

the beautiful Ruperta passionate and vindictive, and with so strong a

desire to be revenged upon her enemy, that even if she knew that he was

dead, her hatred would extend to his descendants, of whom she would not

wish to leave one alive, for the wrath of a woman is boundless.

The hour came when the pilgrims were to see her, themselves unseen.

They saw her extremely lovely, with a long and flowing white veil,

which reached from her head to her feet, as she was seated before a

table, on which was placed the head of her murdered lord in its silver

case, the sword that had deprived him of life, and a shirt, which was

all stained with his blood.

All these melancholy memorials reawakened her anger, which needed no

arousing, for it never slept; she arose from her seat, and putting

her right hand upon the head, she began to renew the vow of which

the mourning squire had told them; showers of tears rained from her

eyes, enough to have bathed the sad relics in, sighs burst from her

heart, which filled the air far and near; to the usual form of her vow

she added words of more intense hatred, so that at times it almost

seemed as if fire instead of tears sparkled in her eyes, and from her

mouth proceeded smoke instead of sighs, such a slave was she to her

passionate desire for revenge--see her weep, see her sigh, see her

beside herself, see her brandish the murderous steel, see her kiss

the bloodstained shirt, and hear the sobs that impede her words; but,

wait only till the morrow, and you will see things that would give you

something to talk of for a thousand years, if you were to live so long.

Ruperta was still in the midst of her passionate grief, when one of

her attendants entered like a dark phantom, for he was clad in deep

mourning vestments, and, in trembling accents, he said,

"Lady, the son of your enemy has just alighted with several servants

at the door of this inn, Croriano, the gallant, as he is called. Think

whether it is your pleasure to discover your being here to him, and if

you wish he should know it, or what you like to do, whilst you have

time to consider it."

"Let him know nothing about my being here," answered Ruperta; "and

warn all my servants that they take care not to mention my name, nor

discover me to him."

So saying, she gathered up her tokens, and commanded the room to be

closed, and that no one should enter it.

The pilgrims returned to theirs; she remained alone and very

thoughtful. I cannot tell how it came to be known that she spoke aloud

to the following effect, but so it was, in these, or very nearly these,

words:--

"Behold now, O Ruperta, how Heaven in its justice has brought hither,

like a victim to the sacrifice, the very soul of thine enemy; for sons,

and most of all, an only son, are like a part of their father's self.

Forget, O Ruperta, that thou art a woman, and if thou canst not forget

that, then think that thou art a justly incensed one, and that thy

husband's blood cries to thee for vengeance; and this poor speechless

head is saying, 'Revenge me, sweet wife, on him who murdered me,

guiltless as I was of all offence! Remember Judith who was not afraid

of the brave Holofernes.' It is true that my case is different from

hers; she chastised an enemy of her God, and I would punish one who

is not even mine own enemy; love of her country placed in her hands

the steel, and love of a dead husband places it in mine; but why do I

delay, making these senseless comparisons? What have I to do but to

shut my eyes and bury the steel deep in this boy's heart; the more

innocent he, the greater will my vengeance be. Let me then exalt the

avenger's name, and let come what may, I must accomplish my task, and

do the deed, even though it should be my own death."

Having thus resolved, she took measures to get admittance into the

chamber where Croriano slept. She easily gained this by means of one

of his servants, who was won over by her gold, thinking also that

he was not doing any very ill office to his master in bringing so

beautiful a lady into his apartment. She concealed herself in a part

where she could not be seen, and committing her fate to Heaven, buried

in the profoundest silence, she awaited the moment of her long desired

revenge.

She had taken, as the instrument whereby to effect this, a sharp knife,

which she thought would be the least embarrassing and most handy weapon

she could choose: she also had with her a small lamp, in which burned a

wax light. She hardly dared to breathe. What will not a furious woman

dare to do? what heaps of difficulties will she not trample under foot?

what enormous cruelties will not seem to her like the gentlest deeds?

At length the hour arrived;--Croriano entered his room, and fatigued

with his journey, went immediately to bed, giving himself up (little

dreaming of death so near) to repose.

Ruperta listened attentively to ascertain whether Croriano slept or

no, and having satisfied herself that he slept, both from the length

of time that he had been in bed, and from certain long-drawn breaths,

which none but sleepers give, she opened her lamp to find her way

across the room, and without either crossing herself, or invoking any

Saint to assist her, she made her way to the bedside. Ah, beauteous

murderess, lovely fury, charming executioner, now satisfy thy fierce

wrath: strike the blow and blot out thy injury for ever; for there he

lies before thee, on whom thou mayest wreak thy long desired revenge.

But pause an instant, O beautiful Ruperta, and take one look before

thou strikest, or rather do not look upon that most lovely Cupid who

lies sleeping there, for in a moment that sight will effect a change in

the whole tenour of thy thoughts.

She reached the bed, and with a trembling hand removed the

coverlet from the face of Croriano, who was buried in a profound

sleep:--Medusa's head which changed the gazer into marble, never

produced a more sudden effect. Struck by the sight of so much beauty,

she let fall the murderous knife, and this afforded her time to

reflect for a moment upon the deed she was about to commit. The

exceeding beauty of the youth dispersed the shades of death that hung

over him, as the sun's rays melt the snow, and he no longer appeared to

her in the light of a victim to a cruel sacrifice, but rather as a holy

peace offering.

"Ah!" said she to herself, "noble youth, thou art fitter far to be my

husband than the object of my vengeance; what part hast thou in thy

father's crime? why shouldst _thou_ be punished who hast done no fault?

Live and be happy, thou lovely youth, and my revenge and cruelty shall

sleep within my own breast: a better name it will make for me to be

called the forgiving instead of the revengeful." As these thoughts

passed through her mind, troubled and repentant, she let her lamp fall

from her hand upon the sleeper, who awoke. The light was extinguished,

and Ruperta hoped to escape in the darkness, but could not find her way

out. Meantime Croriano called aloud for his attendants, and snatching

up his sword, leaped out of bed. He soon found and seized Ruperta, who

trembling, said, "Do not kill me, Croriano, though I am a woman who not

an hour ago could have killed thee, and now I am reduced to beg my life

at thy hands."

At this crisis the servants rushed in with lights, and saw Croriano,

and recognized the beautiful widow, who looked like the resplendent

moon enveloped in white clouds.

"What can this mean, lady Ruperta?" he asked; "is this the vengeance

you have sworn to execute; and do you desire that I should pay for my

father's injustice? What means this knife I see? what can it mean but

that you came to be my executioner? My father is already dead, and the

dead can no longer afford satisfaction for the offences they have

committed; the living can, and I, who now represent my father, will

gladly make any amends in my power for the injury he did to you; but

first let me touch you, and see whether you are indeed flesh and blood,

or a phantom sent to kill or to delude me, or it may be, sent for my

good." "And for _my_ hurt," said Ruperta, "if indeed Heaven can find a

sadder fate for me than I have hitherto experienced. You came to this

house; I did not see you, but I heard your name, which aroused my angry

feelings, and incited me to vengeance. I bribed one of your servants

to admit me into your sleeping apartment. I came here, prepared as you

may see, and in the full intention of taking your life. When I found

that you were asleep, I left my hiding-place, and by the light of

the lamp which I had brought with me, I uncovered and saw your face,

which filled me with feelings of respect and reverence, so that it

blunted the steel which I held, and my desire for vengeance died away.

I let the lamp fall--it awoke you--you cried out. I remained in great

perplexity; hence all that you have seen. I no longer feel the desire

for revenge, nor to remember my injury. Live in peace; I wish to be the

first to ask forgiveness myself, if I have not already pardoned you for

the fault you never committed."

"Lady," answered Croriano, "my father wished to marry you, but you

rejected him. In his anger he slew your husband:--he is dead, and his

crime has gone with him to another world. I am left as a part of him

to do what I can for the good of his soul. Mine is yours if you will

have it. Take me as your husband, if you are not, as I said before, a

delusive phantom; so great a piece of good fortune coming thus suddenly

must bring suspicion along with it."

"Give me your hand, my lord," answered she, "and you will find that

I am no phantom, and that the heart I shall bestow on you is simple,

pure, and true." The servants were made to witness their betrothal.

That night sweet peace triumphed over grim war. The field of battle was

changed for the bridal bed: love sprang out of hatred, life from death,

and happiness from discontent.

When the pilgrims came on the following morning to know what the

mourning Ruperta had done about the arrival of her enemy's son, of

which they had been told, they learned the story of the new betrothal;

and as they went to offer their congratulations to the young pair, at

the entrance of Ruperta's apartment they met the ancient squire, who

had related to them her story, laden with the silver case, wherein the

skull of her deceased husband was enshrined, and with the blood stained

shirt and sword that had so often renewed the grief of Ruperta, and

he said he was to remove them to where the sight should never again

disturb the glorious present with the mournful memory of the past. He

murmured at Ruperta's inconstancy, and at that of women in general; the

smallest of the faults he charged them with was caprice.

Nevertheless, both Ruperta's and Croriano's attendants rejoiced, and

the little inn seemed changed into a royal palace fit for such great

espousals.

Periander, Auristella, Constance, and Antonio had much discourse with

the betrothed pair, and made them acquainted with as much of their own

history as was necessary.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A Fire breaks out in the Inn; all the party are removed from it by an

Astrologer, and carried to his cave, where he foretells happy events.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIX.

Our pilgrims again are on their way. They were passed on the road by

about seven or eight persons on horseback; among them was a woman

seated upon a rich side saddle, on a mule, and dressed in a travelling

habit, all green, except her hat, the rich plumes of which floated on

the breeze, and her face was covered with a green veil. They went by,

and passed on before them without turning their heads, or speaking a

word, but silently saluted them, and went forwards. The others did the

same, they also bowed and said nothing.

One of the party remained behind the rest, and coming up to the

pilgrims and their friends, asked if they could afford them a little

water. They gave it, and inquired who the persons were that had gone

on, and who was the lady in green; to which the traveller answered, "He

who rides yonder, is Signor Alexander Castrucho, a gentleman of Capua,

and one of the richest men, not only in Capua, but of the whole kingdom

of Naples. The lady is his niece, the lady Isabella Castrucho, who was

born in Spain, where she has left her father buried, and in consequence

of his death her uncle is bringing her to Capua to be married, and I

believe she is not very well pleased with this."

"That may be very likely," said the aged squire of the lady Ruperta,

(for she and Croriano were now added to the party,) "not because she is

going to be married, but because the journey is long. I hold it that no

woman alive but is longing for the other half she wants,--a husband."

"I cannot tell about these philosophies," replied the traveller, "all

I know is, that she looks very melancholy, and she probably knows why;

and now I must say adieu, for my masters are much in advance," and so

spurring on, he was shortly out of sight.

The French ladies had determined to give up going to Paris, and to

travel straight to Rome with the pilgrims, who had decided to leave

France by Dauphiny, and crossing Piedmont and the States of Milan,

visit Florence, and proceed on to Rome.

For many days they travelled without meeting any adventure worth

relating. They entered Milan, admired the grandeur of the town, its

wealth, its gilding, its warlike forges, as if Vulcan himself had

set up there. The infinite abundance of its fruits, the size of its

churches, and lastly, the sharp wits of its inhabitants. They had heard

from their host that the thing best worth seeing was the Academy of the

Entronados,[S] which boasted of some of the most eminent academicians,

whose subtle reasonings and arguments had gained renown for them

throughout the whole world. They heard that this was a day when an

argument would be held, and that it was to be, Whether love could exist

without jealousy?

"It can," said Periander. "To decide this it is not necessary to lose

much time."

"I," said Auristella, "do not know what is meant by love, although I

know what it is to love well."

To which Bellarmina answered, "I cannot understand this mode of

talking, nor the difference between love and loving well."

"It is," said Auristella, "that loving well may be without any very

great or violent emotion, as one can love a faithful servant, or a

statue, or a picture, which pleases one very much, and this does not

cause jealousy, nor can give it; but the passion which is generally

called love, and which is a violent emotion of the soul, even when it

does not produce jealousy can cause such fears as go nigh to destroy

life itself, and from this it seems to me that love cannot be free."

"You say well, lady," observed Periander, "for when did there ever

exist a lover, who, possessing the beloved one, does not tremble lest

he should lose it? There is no happiness so secure that it may not be

overturned;--no nail so strong as to stop the wheel of fortune;--and

if it were not that we are anxious not to delay our journey, perhaps

I might prove to-day in the academy, that love _can_ exist without

jealousy, but not without fear."

Thus ended the conversation. They stayed in Milan four days, during

which they saw a great part of its grandeur, but not all, as that would

have taken them four years.

From thence they went to Lucca, a small town, but beautiful and free,

which, under the wings of the empire and of Spain, looks loftily down

upon the cities of the surrounding princes, who long to possess her.

Here Spaniards are better received and regarded than in any other

place; and here our travellers met with one of the strangest adventures

that had yet befallen them.

FOOTNOTES:

[S] See Note 8.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XX.

The inns at Lucca are large enough to lodge a whole regiment of

soldiers; in one of these our pilgrims took up their abode, being

directed thither by some of the guardians of the city gates, who

delivered them to the host, so that on the morrow, or when they

departed, he would have to give up an account of them. As they entered,

the lady Ruperta saw a person coming out who looked like a doctor, and

saying so to the hostess, she replied, that he was one. "I do not know,

lady," said she, "whether the young lady is mad, or possessed by the

evil one, or rather whether she is not both mad and possessed; and yet

I have hopes of her recovery, if her uncle is not in too great a hurry

to take her away."

"Ah! good Heavens!" cried Ruperta, "and have we then got into a house

of mad and possessed people; if it be so, we had much better not enter

here."

"Your ladyship may alight without fear," said the hostess; "and I can

assure you anybody might come a hundred miles to see the sight we have

in this inn." They all alighted, and Auristella and Constance, who had

heard what the hostess said, asked her what she had so very well worth

seeing in her house.

"Come with me," said the hostess, "and you shall see what you shall

see, and you will say what I say."

She led the way, and they followed her into a room, where, on a gilded

bed, was lying a very beautiful girl, seemingly not above sixteen or

seventeen years of age; her arms were extended on either side, and

tied with fillets to the balustrade of the bedstead, to prevent her

moving them. Two women, who appeared to be nurses, were going to fasten

her legs in a similar way, but she cried out, "It is enough to tie my

arms: my own modesty will be sufficient restraint for the rest;" and

then turning to the pilgrims, she said in a loud voice, "ye heavenly

creatures, ye angels in human form, I doubt not but that you come to

restore me to health, for what else can I expect from your beauteous

presence and Christian-like visitation. If ye be what I take ye for,

command them to untie these bands, for if I do give myself four or five

blows it will be all I shall do, and will not hurt me much, for I am

not so mad as I seem, nor he who torments me, so cruel as to torment me

to death."

"Poor thing! poor niece!" said an old man, who now entered the

apartment; "and what is _he_ whom thou sayest will not let thee die?

Commend thyself to God, Isabella, and try to eat,--not thine own fair

flesh, but what thy uncle, who loves thee dearly, brings to thee:--that

which flies in the air, that which lives in the water, that which feeds

upon the earth, all this I would offer to thee."

To which the girl answered, "Let me be left alone with these angels;

perhaps my enemy, the devil, will fly from me, rather than stay in

their presence;" and she made signs with her head that Auristella,

Constance, Ruperta, and Felicia Flora should remain with her.

"The rest," she said, "might go." This was accordingly done with

willingness, and even with entreaty, by the unhappy old man, her uncle,

from whom they learned that this was the lady in green who had passed

them on the road, and whose name they had heard from the servant who

remained behind, was Isabella Castrucho, who was going to be married at

Naples.

Hardly did the sick person find herself alone with the four ladies we

have mentioned, than she looked all round the room to see if there were

no others remaining. Ruperta looked and scrutinized the apartment well,

and assured her that there was not a creature left but themselves; thus

assured, Isabella sat up as well as she could on the bed, and seemed

about to speak; but first she uttered a sigh that appeared to come from

the very bottom of her heart, after which she fell back on the bed

fainting, and looked so nearly dead that they were forced to call for

help and for some water to bathe her face.

The miserable uncle entered, carrying a cross in one hand, and in the

other a sponge dipped in holy water. With him came two priests, who,

thinking that she was possessed by the evil one, began to exorcise him.

The hostess also entered with water, and after bathing her face she

came to herself, saying, "All these ceremonies are quite unnecessary

now: I shall go away soon, but it will not be at your pleasure, but

when I myself think fit, and that will be when Andrew Marulo, the son

of Juan Baptista Marulo, a gentleman of this city, shall arrive here,

which said Andrew is now a student at Salamanca, very little thinking

of what is happening here."

All that she said only confirmed the bystanders in the opinion that

she was possessed, for they could not imagine how she could know

anything about Juan Baptista Marulo, or his son Andrew, and some one

present hastened to tell this Juan Baptista what the fair maniac had

said of him and of his son. She again entreated to be left alone with

those she had before chosen. The priests crossed themselves, and left

her as she desired; judging from all she had said, they concluded that

she was verily possessed with an evil spirit.

Again did Felicia Flora investigate the apartment, and shutting the

door, she said to the afflicted young girl, "We are alone now, lady,

tell us what you wish."

"What I wish," said Isabella, "is first that you unfasten these

ligatures, which although soft, yet fatigue me, because they restrain

me."

They did as she desired speedily, and then Isabella seated herself upon

the bed, holding Auristella with one hand and Ruperta with the other,

and making Constance and Felicia Flora sit as close as they could to

her on the bed, forming thus a lovely group, and with a low voice and

tearful eyes she thus spoke:--

"Ladies, I am the unhappy Isabella Castrucho, whose parents bestowed on

me noble birth; fortune gave me large possessions, and Heaven conferred

on me the gift of some degree of beauty. My parents came from Capua,

but I was born in Spain, and brought up there in the house of an

uncle, whom you saw here, and who belonged to the imperial court. Ah

Heavens! must I go so far back to trace the origin of my misfortunes!

Living then in my uncle's house, and left an orphan by my parents,

who, dying, bequeathed me to his guardianship, it happened that there

arrived at court a young gentleman, whom I afterwards saw at church,

and looked at to such purpose; (and do not for this pronounce me

bold and forward, ladies, but consider I am but a woman;) I looked at

him in the church I repeat, and the impression I received was such,

that when I returned home his image was constantly before my eyes; I

could not get the recollection of his looks out of my head. It ended

in my making inquiries concerning him, and what was his quality and

character, and what he was doing at court, and whither he was going;

and the result of my inquiries was, that I heard he was called Andrew

Marulo, the son of Juan Baptista Marulo, a gentleman of this city, more

noble by birth than rich in worldly goods, and that he was going to

study at Salamanca. During the week he remained I found means to write

him a note, and tell him who I was, and what property I possessed;

as to my looks, he could form his own opinion, having seen me at

church: I also told him that it was my uncle's intention to marry me

to a cousin of my own, so as to keep my fortune in the family,--a man

who was neither to my liking, nor suited to me at all, which is the

truth. I bade him seize the opportunity that offered itself, and not

by refusing it give himself cause for future repentance; and I begged

that he would not consider my forwardness as a reason for denying me

his esteem. His answer was, that having seen me very frequently in

church, for myself alone, without any of those advantages of birth and

fortune of which I spoke, he would have preferred me to all others,

and would, if it were in his power, gladly make me mistress of the

whole world; and he implored me to continue firm and faithful in my

feelings for him, at least until he could leave a friend of his at

Salamanca, with whom he was going to that city to finish his studies.

I replied that I could promise him this, since my love was not

impetuous or indiscreet--quickly kindled, and as quickly extinguished.

He then parted with me at the call of honour, not wishing to desert

his friend, and with many tears which I saw him shed as he was going

through the street where I lived on the day of his departure, he

went, yet never left me; I too went along with him, and yet I did not

depart the following day; who would believe it? In how many ways doth

misfortune bring about the accomplishment of her ends to the unhappy;

the following day, I say, my uncle resolved to return to Italy, and

take me with him; and I could devise no excuse, nor feign sickness,

for my pulse was strong, and my complexion healthy; my uncle could not

have believed that I was ill, but that I was averse to his matrimonial

project, and so sought for means to escape going. I found a moment in

which to write and tell Andrew what had happened, and that I was forced

to depart, but that I would try and go by this city, where I would

feign myself possessed by the evil one, and so gain time for delay to

allow time for him to leave Salamanca, and come to Lucca, where, in

spite of my uncle and of the whole world, he should be my husband;

that my happiness and his own depended upon the haste he made. If this

plan pleased him, if my letter reached him, and it must have done, for

the posts are safe and certain, he will be here before three days have

passed: I, on my side, have done all I could; I have a legion of devils

within me, for is it not that to have an ounce of love in one's heart,

when hope afar off is flattering one's affections? This, ladies, is

my story; this, my madness, this, my illness, my love-sick thoughts

are the demons which torment me; I feel no hunger, because I expect

the fulfilment of every desire; nevertheless, doubt and anxiety pursue

me, for as the saying is, there is many a slip between the cup and the

lip. Help me, then, dear ladies, in keeping up my imposture, and assist

me by persuading my uncle, if I am not better, to delay our journey

further for some days; perhaps it may please Heaven to bless me with

the coming of my Andrew."

We need not ask whether the hearers were not greatly astonished at

the story of Isabella, since the story was in itself a wonder, and

must strike as such the ears of all who heard it. They offered their

services to assist her in her devices, and to obtain delay, in hopes of

soon seeing the end of them, as they were not able to wait much longer

themselves.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXI.

The fair Isabella made haste to assume the part of a possessed one

again, and her four new friends to support her by confirming the idea

of her illness, and that she was verily possessed by an evil spirit;

and truly love was such, since it could make a woman seem a demoniac.

Things were in this state, and evening coming on, when the physician

returned to pay a second visit, and by chance he brought with him Juan

Baptista Marulo, father of Andrew, the lover. As they entered the sick

room, he said, "Look at this young lady, Señor Juan Baptista; is it

not a pity that a demon should have possession of so fair a body, but

we console ourselves with one hope, and that is, that the evil spirit

said he would go away when your son Andrew should arrive, and we are

expecting him every instant."

"So I have heard," said the Señor Juan Baptista, "and I should rejoice

if anything of mine were to be the harbinger of such good news."

"Thanks to me and my diligence," cried Isabella, "but for that he

might be still at Salamanca doing the Lord knows what. The Señor Juan

Baptista, who is here present, may believe me when I tell him he has

a son who is more handsome than holy, and not so studious as he is

gallant. Evil betide the fine ornaments and gay attire of those youths

who commit such havoc in the republic; and ill betide the spurs that

are not sharp, and the mules that do not bestir themselves."

Thus she ran on, stringing together all kinds of dubious words, such

as might convey two meanings to those who were in the secret, and the

bystanders in general. _These_ interpreted them as they were meant.

_Those_ considered them as incoherent nonsense.

"Where did you see my son Andrew, lady?" asked Marulo; "was it at

Madrid, or Salamanca?"

"It was at Illescas," said Isabella: "he was gathering cherries on the

morning of St. John at day-break; but if I must speak the truth, and it

is a marvel if I do so, I see him everywhere, and carry him ever in my

heart."

"Better to be gathering cherries than catching fleas," replied Marulo,

"for that is the common occupation of the students."

"Those creatures," she replied, "are bold, and will enter the stocking

of a prince as freely as the blanket of a? hospital."

"You know everything, evil one," said the doctor; "it seems clear that

you are an old hand." He spoke this to the devil, who, as he imagined,

was inhabiting Isabella's body.

And now, just as if Satan had ordained it, the old uncle of Isabella

entered with every mark of the greatest joy, crying out, "A reward!

my niece, my beloved child; a reward for the news I bring. The Señor

Andrew Marulo, son of this gentleman, Señor Juan Baptista, is just

arrived; and now Heaven grant that we may see the promise accomplished,

which you gave of being freed from the evil spirit at the sight of

him."

Accursed demon, _vade retro, exi foras_, and never think of returning

to this dwelling, which thou shalt see purged and purified.

"Let him come," said Isabella. "Let this reputed Ganymede, this

counterfeit Adonis, come, and give me his hand as a husband, free and

unrestrained, for here am I expecting him, firm as a rock whereon the

sea waves break, but cannot move."

Andrew Marulo entered: he had already heard in his father's house of

the stranger lady's illness, and of her expecting him to give the sign

and expel the demon. The young man was discreet, and already prepared

by the letters Isabella had written to him at Salamanca, for the part

he was to play when he arrived at Lucca. So without changing his

travelling dress he hurried to the inn where Isabella was, and entering

her apartment, like one half mad or crazed, he cried, "Avaunt, avaunt,

avaunt; begone, begone, begone, for here cometh the valorous Andrew,

the great commander, and lord of hell." Those who knew the state of

the case were greatly amused by all this tumult and outcry; but the

physician, and even his own father, said, "Why this man is as much

possessed as Isabella herself;" and the uncle said, "We expected this

young man would come to help us, and do good, and I think he is come to

do more harm."

"My son," cried his father, "be composed, calm yourself; you are like a

madman."

"He will not be mad long," said Isabella, "if he will come to me. Am

not I the centre where all his wishes and thoughts rest? am not I the

goal he desires to reach?"

"Assuredly thou art," said Andrew; "thou art the mistress of my heart,

my life, and my soul. Give me thy hand, and be my wife, O lady mine,

and release me from the thraldom under which I labour, to chain me in

thy fetters, and make me submissive to thy yoke; once more I say give

me thy hand, beloved one, and exalt the humble Andrew Marulo to the

high rank of Isabella Castrucho's husband. May every evil demon who

would hinder this sweet union, fly hence for ever, and let not man

divide those whom God has joined together."

"You speak well, Señor Andrew," said Isabella, "and that no plans,

machinations, or treachery may intervene, give me your hand as my

husband, and receive mine as your wife." Andrew put forth his hand to

take hers, and Auristella raised her voice and said, "It is good, it

should be so given that they may be made one."

Astonished and stupified, Isabella's uncle seized the hand of Andrew,

and said, "Sir, what means this? Is it the custom in this country for

one devil to marry another?"

"No, truly," said the physician, "this must needs be a joke to make

the devil go; it is impossible that this case now happening could be

foreseen by human understanding."

"Nevertheless," said Isabella's uncle, "I desire to know from their own

lips, what this marriage means, a jest, or a truth."

"A truth," said Isabella, "for neither is Andrew mad, nor I possessed.

I have chosen him, and prefer him as my husband, if he loves, and

chooses me as a wife."

"Neither mad nor possessed, but in my perfect senses, such as God has

been pleased to give me;" so saying, Andrew took Isabella's hand, and

she gave him hers, and they were thus affianced.

"What is this?" cried Castrucho; "can it be that you will thus

dishonour the old man's white hairs?"

"An alliance with my family can dishonour no one," said Andrew's

father. "I am noble, and if not rich, yet not poor enough to ask for

anything from anybody. I have never engaged in any mercantile concerns:

these young people have made this marriage without my knowledge, for

in young heads wisdom is not measured by years, and if young heads do

foolish things sometimes, yet they often make good hits, and when they

do so, although by chance, they frequently succeed better than the most

prudent."

Two priests who were present said that the marriage was valid, since,

if it had begun under the guise of madness, it had been confirmed in

sober truth.

"And again I will confirm it," said Andrew; and so said Isabella. On

hearing all this, the uncle, heart-broken, let his head fall upon his

breast, and heaving a deep sigh, turned up his eyes, and seemed to

have received his death-blow. He was carried to bed by his servants.

Isabella rose from hers. Andrew took her home to his father's house, as

his wife. Two days after this there came into the church a child (the

young brother of Andrew) to be christened; Isabella and Andrew to be

married, and the body of her uncle to be buried. Such and so strange

are the events of human life. At the same moment some are christened,

others married, and others buried.

Isabella was obliged to wear mourning for that which is called death,

and thus closely met together the grave and the bridal bed, mourning

and mirth.

Four days more did our pilgrims remain in Lucca, and they were

hospitably entertained by the newly-married pair, and the noble Juan

Baptista Marulo. And here the author ends the third book of his

history.

[Illustration]

BOOK IV.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER I.

_Which shows what was the conversation that passed between Periander

and Auristella._

Many and long were the disputes among our little band of pilgrims,

whether the marriage of Isabella Castrucho, effected by so many devices

and so much deceit, was valid or not. Periander oftentimes repeated

that it was so, for that it was not their business to search into

the case, but the thing which had displeased _him_ was the mingling

of baptism, marriage, and funeral together, and the ignorance of the

physician, who had not been skilful enough to see through the trick

of Isabella, nor to perceive the danger of her uncle. Sometimes they

discoursed upon these matters, at others they retraced their past

dangers. Croriano and Ruperta were eagerly trying to discover who

Periander and Auristella could be, but they could not succeed in this;

Constance and Antonio they also knew nothing of. They had known who

the three French ladies were from the first commencement of their

acquaintance.

By easy journeys they reached Aqua-pendente, a place near Rome. As

they approached the town Periander and Auristella went on a little in

advance of the others, out of hearing, and Periander spoke thus:--"You

know well, dear lady, that the reasons which made us leave our own

country and our royalty were as good as they were necessary. Already

is the air of Rome playing on our cheeks, and the hopes that have

supported us are beating in our hearts; already it seems to me that

I am in possession of the beloved object so long desired. Look well,

O Lady, whether your feelings still remain unchanged; scrutinize

well your heart, and see if it is still firm and true to its first

intentions, or will be after you have fulfilled your vow, which I

doubt not that it will, for your royal blood cannot deceive nor give

false promises. Let me then hear you say, O lovely Sigismunda, that

the Periander you see before you, is the Persiles that you saw in the

palace of my royal father; the same Persiles who pledged his word to

you to be your husband there, and who would gladly fulfil that promise

in the Deserts of Lybia, should our adverse fortune take us there."

Auristella looked wonderingly at him, listening attentively to all he

said. She marvelled how Periander could doubt her truth, and said to

him:--"O Persiles, in all my life I have never loved but one, that

_one_ has been yourself. It is now two years since I gave my heart

to you, not perforce, but of my own free-will, and it is as firm and

true now as it was the first day I made you master of it. If it were

possible that my affection could have increased, it would have done so

among the many wanderings and dangers we have gone through together;

it gives pleasure to me to hear that you are unchanged in yours for

me, and in accomplishing my vow I shall willingly fulfil my promise

to you; but tell me, what are we to do afterwards, since we are still

bound by the same constraint, and still under the dominion of the same

yoke that is about our necks? We are far distant from our homes, and

known to none in these countries, without any support to cling to in

our need. I do not speak thus, because I lack the courage to suffer any

inconveniences or distresses, since it will be with you, but I say it

because any trouble you may be in will be mine also; until now my heart

has suffered alone, henceforward it will suffer for itself and for you,

though I am wrong to talk of two hearts, for are not ours but one?"

"Lady," replied Periander, "why should we not be the fabricators of our

own fortune? they say every man makes his own from beginning to end. I

will not answer for what I may do after our happy fate has united us;

the inconvenience of our present divided state will soon be over, when

we are one; there are fields enough where we can maintain ourselves,

cottages wherein we may find shelter and clothes to cover us; for as to

the happiness two souls made one, can feel, it is as you say unequalled

by any other, and we could not enjoy _this_ more beneath the gilded

roofs of a palace. We shall find means to let my mother know where we

are, and she will not fail in finding a way to help us, and in the mean

time we have an inestimable treasure in our diamond cross, and the two

pearls of priceless value which you possess, and which we have no fear

of losing, for who would think such treasures could be hid beneath a

pilgrim's weeds?"

Here they were overtaken by the rest of their party, and the

conversation ceased, which was the first they had held upon these kind

of subjects; for Auristella's excessive modesty and reserve never gave

any opportunities to Periander to talk to her in private, and thus they

had been able to keep up the play of brother and sister with all who

knew them. The deceased Clodio, alone, had ever suspected the truth.

* * * * *

A part of this and the beginning of second Chapter are omitted, and

Chapter II. included in Chapter I.

* * * * *

The travellers were now approaching Rome, the sight of which rejoiced

their hearts, and the joy which filled their souls also invigorated

their bodies. The hearts of Periander and Auristella beat tumultuously,

as they saw themselves so near the end of all their desires. Those

of Croriana and Ruperta, and those of the three French ladies were

gladdened at the prospect of a happy termination to their journey, and

Constance and Antonio shared in this feeling of satisfaction.

The sun had reached his meridian height, and the heat was excessively

great; there was a little wood to the right of the road, and they

determined to go thither and to gain a shelter from the scorching rays

which threatened to be intolerable, and to remain there perhaps even

for the night, as they did not wish to enter Rome till the next day.

They went accordingly, and as they advanced further into the wood the

pleasantness of the place and the freshness of the herbage, through

which clear streams murmured, confirmed them in their first intention.

They penetrated so far in, that on looking around, they found they

were quite hidden from the sight of any one passing along the public

road, and as they were debating where to settle themselves, from the

variety of pleasant spots which offered for their choice, all equally

peaceful and inviting, Auristella, looking up by chance, perceived a

picture hanging on the bough of a green willow, about the size of a

quarter of a sheet of paper. It was a painting of the face only, of a

very beautiful woman; on looking a little closer at the picture she saw

clearly that it was her own likeness, and, surprised and wondering, she

pointed it out to Periander; at the same instant Croriano exclaimed,

that the ground was wet with blood, and he shewed them his feet all

dyed with the crimson hue, and it was yet warm. The picture, which

Periander instantly took down, and the blood which Croriano had

discovered, disturbed them greatly, and made them anxious to find out

the owner of the one and the cause of the other. Auristella was at a

loss to divine when and how anybody could have become possessed of her

picture, nor did Periander recollect that the servant of the Duke de

Nemours had told him that the artist who had painted the portraits of

the three French ladies, could also take that of Auristella, though he

had seen her only once. If he had remembered this, he might easily have

come to the conclusion which he did not guess. Croriano and Antonio

followed the track of blood till they came to a sort of thicket or tuft

of trees, at the foot of one of which, they saw a man of noble aspect,

dressed as a pilgrim, seated on the ground with his hand pressed upon

his heart, and covered with blood, a sight which distressed them very

greatly to look upon, and still more when it met the eyes of Croriano,

who went up to him, and raising his head, he discovered a countenance

all bleeding and wounded, which, having wiped with a handkerchief, he

knew to be the Duke de Nemours, for in spite of the different dress

in which he found him, he recognized him at once, for they were great

friends. The wounded duke, or he who appeared to be the duke, without

opening his eyes, said in feeble accents, "Better, far better would it

have been, O thou, whoever thou mayest be, mortal enemy of my peace,

had the blow which thou hast struck been through my heart, for there

thou wouldst have found a portrait still more vivid and true than the

one which thou hast taken from me, and hung upon the tree, that it

might not serve as a shield and defence to me in the hour of battle."

Constance, who had now come up, being of a tender and compassionate

nature, hastened to inspect the wounds of the sufferer, and to staunch

the flowing blood, without attending to the complaining words he

uttered. Meantime Periander and Auristella, guided also by the same

bloody track, had gone on a little further, and discovered among

some green rushes, another man, also in pilgrim's weeds, and equally

bloody, except his face, which was clean, and exposed to view, and was

therefore instantly known by them both to be the Prince Arnoldo, who

lay before them more dead than alive.

The first sign of life he gave was an attempt to rise, saying, "No,

traitor, thou shalt not carry it off; the picture is mine; it is that

of the beloved of my own soul: thou hast stolen it, and now wouldst

take my life."

At the unexpected vision of Arnoldo, Auristella trembled, and although

the remembrance of all she owed him inclined her to hasten to his

assistance, she durst not from fear of Periander, who in a kind and

courteous manner took the prince's hand, and in a low voice (lest he

should perchance betray the secret of his name, which he might wish

concealed) he said, "Recover yourself, Prince Arnoldo, and you will

see that you are amongst friends, and that you are not so forsaken by

Heaven, but that better fortune yet awaits you. Open your eyes, and

you will see your friend Periander, and your grateful Auristella, as

desirous as ever of serving you. Tell us about this misfortune, and all

that has befallen you since we parted; on our part we promise to lend

you every assistance in our power; tell us where you are wounded, and

by whom, that we may try and find some remedy."

At this Arnoldo opened his eyes, and recognizing them at once, he

attempted, but with extreme difficulty, to throw himself at the feet

of Auristella, whilst he embraced Periander, even at such a moment

remembering to respect the modesty of Auristella, on whom he fixed

his eyes, exclaiming, "Is it possible that I see thee, O lady? Can it

be indeed Auristella, and not her image only, for sure no spirit ever

dwelt in form so fair? Yes, thou art Auristella herself, without a

doubt, and I too am that same Arnoldo who has ever adored thee; even

now am I come hither in search of thee, for without thee my soul is

desolate."

Whilst this was passing, Croriano and the rest had heard of the

discovery of another pilgrim, who also seemed badly hurt and wounded,

and Constance having stopped the flow of blood, and bound up the wounds

of the duke, now came to see if she could give any assistance to the

other wounded person. When she recognised Arnoldo, she at first stood

still, astonished and confused, but soon overcoming her surprise, she,

without asking any other questions, hastened to inquire concerning his

hurt. To which the prince replied by pointing to his left arm, where

his wound was; Constance instantly removed his sleeve, and found the

upper part of the arm was pierced quite through. She staunched the

blood, which was still flowing in streams, and telling Periander who

the other wounded man was, she advised that they should both be removed

without delay to the nearest house, that they might obtain surgical

aid, for the greatest danger was to be feared from the excessive loss

of blood.

When Arnoldo heard the name of the Duke de Nemours, he trembled all

over, and the cold freezing shudder of jealousy rushed through every

bloodless vein, and almost without knowing what he said, he muttered,

"Whether duke or king, neither the one nor the other can deserve

Auristella;" and he added aloud, "Do not take us both to the same

place, for the presence of him who has aggrieved one, will not tend to

improve the condition of the sufferer."

Some servants now came up, two of whom took up Arnoldo, and the others

took charge of the duke. They had left their masters alone by their

own command, and had gone on before to a place near at hand to prepare

lodgings for their respective masters.

"Go," said Arnoldo, "and look well upon the trees that are hereabouts,

to see if there is a picture hanging upon any one of them, which was

the cause of the combat that took place between the duke and myself.

Take it down, and give it to me, for it has caused much blood, and is

mine by right."

The duke meanwhile was saying very much the same thing to Ruperta and

Croriano, and those who were about him; but Periander satisfied both

parties by saying that _he_ had got the picture, and would keep it in

his own care as a deposit, which should be restored to the right owner

at a better opportunity.

"It it possible," said Arnoldo, "that anybody can question my right to

that picture? Is it not known to every one, that from the first moment

I beheld the original, her image has dwelt within my heart? however,

let my brother Periander keep it at present, for whilst he has it, it

will prevent all jealousies, anger, and ill feeling; and now take me

away, for I am very faint."

They immediately contrived the best means they could devise for the two

wounded princes, whose danger proceeded more from loss of blood than

the depth of the wounds; and so they were conveyed to the place where

their servants had prepared the best lodging and accommodation it could

afford for their masters.

Until this moment the duke had not known that his adversary was the

Prince Arnoldo.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III.

_They enter Rome, and lodge in the house of a Jew named Manasseh._

It aroused the envy and indignation of the three French ladies to

find how much more Auristella's portrait was valued by the duke than

theirs, which they knew had been brought to him by the servant who was

sent to get their pictures for his lord, as has been already related.

They heard from him that theirs were much esteemed, but that hers was

idolized, a thing which dwelt very heavily upon their hearts, for

it is well-known that no beauty can bear to be excelled by another

without mortal displeasure; they cannot even bear comparisons, for

as the common saying goes, "That all comparisons are odious" in the

case of rival beauty, they become doubly odious, unless friendship,

relationship, quality, and high station, stand in the way of this

accursed jealousy and envy, for such it may well be called.

The servant also told them that the duke, his master, enamoured of the

beautiful portrait, had quitted Paris in order to seek out the pilgrim

Auristella; that he had seated himself that morning at the foot of a

tree, with the picture in his hand, and was discoursing with it as if

it had been the living original. That, whilst he was thus occupied,

another pilgrim passed by, and looking over his shoulder, could hear

what the duke said; "without," said he, "myself or the other servants

being able to prevent it, for we were a good way off. We came up at

last, and hastened to warn the duke that he was overheard. He turned

his head, and saw the pilgrim, who, without speaking a word, snatched

the picture from his hand, who, taken unawares, had not time to defend

himself, and what I heard him say, at least, all I could make out, was,

'Robber of this celestial prize, profane not with those sacrilegious

hands this precious thing. Give up the picture whereon that heavenly

beauty is portrayed, both because thou dost not deserve to possess it,

and also because it belongs to me.'

"'I say that it does not,' answered the other; 'and if I cannot now

find any one to bear witness to the truth of what I say, I will leave

it to be decided by the edge of the sword, which I wear concealed

within this pilgrim's staff. I am the true and sole possessor of that

incomparable beauty, for in far distant lands from these where we

now are, I purchased her with my treasures, and worshipped her with

my whole heart, and I have served the original of that picture with

faithful service, and through many perils and wanderings.'

"Then the duke turning to us, imperiously commanded us to leave them

alone, and to come on here, where we were to wait for him, and we

were not even to dare to turn round and look what he was about. The

other pilgrim gave a similar command to the two servants who attended

him. In spite of the orders I had received, I had the curiosity to

look back, and I saw the stranger pilgrim hang the picture upon the

bough of a tree, and then, as I rather conjectured than actually saw,

he drew out of his staff a short sword, or a weapon that looked like

one, and attacked my master, who met his attack with another sword,

which he also carried hidden in his staff. The servants on both sides

wished to interfere and part the combatants, but I was of a different

opinion, telling them that as the combat was equal, and between only

two persons, without fear or suspicion of help to either side, it was

best for us to go on our way, as we had been desired. We came here,

prepared the apartments quickly, and in a short space of time returned

to see what had been the fate of our masters. We found them as you saw,

where, but for your succour, and if you had not arrived, our arrival

would have been too late."

So said the servant; and the ladies listened, and felt as if they had

indeed been in love with the duke: at the same instant the plan and

hope of marrying him, if ever entertained by either of them, entirely

vanished, for nothing destroys or blots out love so quickly from the

fancy, as finding it met by disdain or neglect in its first beginning.

Disdain starves love in its infancy just as hunger affects the body.

Hunger and want of sleep will reduce the bravest spirit, and disdain

will kill the warmest desires. It is true that this is in the beginning

only, for later, when love has gained strength, and taken possession

of the heart, disdain and ill treatment only act as a spur to urge on

still faster its feelings.

In about a week, the wounded princes were cured, and able to set out

for Rome, from whence surgeons had been sent for to see them.

By this time the duke knew that his adversary was the heir of the crown

of Denmark, and also knew of his intentions of choosing Auristella for

a wife. This weighed heavily on his thoughts, which were the same as

Arnoldo's. It seemed to him that she who was deemed fit to be a queen,

might be also fit for a duchess; but amidst all these reflections,

jealousy was foremost, embittering every thought, and destroying his

repose.

At last the day of their departure arrived, and the duke and Arnoldo

each entered Rome privately, unknown to any one. The other pilgrims

having reached the top of a high hill, came in view of that city, and

at the sight they fell upon their knees, and worshipped, as if it were

a holy thing. They entered Rome by the gate del Popolo, (having gone

through the _Prados de Madama_,) and devoutly kissed the thresholds and

edges of the gates which led to the holy city.

One of Croriano's servants met two Jews, as he entered the town, and

they inquired whether the party was prepared with lodgings, for if not

they could provide some, fit to lodge a prince. "You must know, sir,"

said one, "that we are Jews; I am called Zabulon, and my companion,

Abihud. Our business is to furnish and adorn houses with all things

necessary, according to the rank and quality of those who hire them.

The payment, of course, depends upon the sort of accommodation

required."

The servant told him that one of his fellow servants had gone to Rome

the day before, with the purpose of preparing a lodging suitable to the

quality of their master, and those who were with him. "May I die," said

Abihud, "if this is not the Frenchman who yesterday hired the house

of our friend Manasseh, which is fitted up like a palace." "Then,"

replied the servant, "we must go on, for my companion must be expecting

our arrival, and will come to show us the way, and should the house

he has provided not suit us, we will commend ourselves to you, Signor

Zabulon." So saying, he passed on, and at the entrance of the town

the Jews saw their friend Manasseh with Croriano's servant, by which

they knew that his house was the one engaged, and well contented our

pilgrims were guided thither. It was situated near the Arch of Portugal.

Hardly had the French ladies made their appearance in the town, when

they attracted every eye, and it being a festival-day the street of our

Lady del Popolo was full of people; but the admiration they excited,

increased prodigiously when the peerless Auristella and the graceful

Constance by her side appeared, like two bright stars that shine

together in the sky. A Roman who saw them (I believe he must have been

a poet) said, "I will lay a wager that this must be the goddess Venus,

who, as in times of old, is come to visit the relics of her loved

Eneas. By Heavens! the governor is wrong not to give orders that they

may cover the face of this moving idol: does he wish to make the sober

ones wild, to destroy the tender-hearted, and turn the foolish youths

into idolaters?"

And so amidst praises and admiration, carried even to the heights of

hyperbole, passed on the lovely band, and reached the lodging which

had been prepared to receive them, and which was splendid and spacious

enough to have lodged a king, or a moderate sized regiment.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV.

_What passed between Arnoldo and Periander, and between the Duke de

Nemours and Croriano._

On the following day the news of the arrival of the French ladies, and

the little band of pilgrims, had spread throughout the town.

Chiefly did the general voice extol Auristella's superhuman beauty,

exaggerating it even to the utmost. The house was encompassed by

persons, brought by curiosity, and the desire of gazing upon so much

beauty assembled in one place, as people talked of. It rose to such a

height at last that they even called out from the street to summon the

ladies to appear at the windows, but they were reposing, and would not

let themselves be seen. Especially they called out for Auristella, but

they did not succeed in catching a sight of any one of the party.

Among the rest who appeared at the door were Arnoldo and the duke,

still in their pilgrim's dresses, and scarcely did they set eyes upon

each other than they felt their jealous hatred revive, and their hearts

beat wildly in their breasts.

From the windows they were seen by Periander, who told Croriano, and

they instantly descended together, to prevent, as much as possible,

the chance of an encounter between the two jealous lovers.

Periander went to meet Arnoldo, and Croriano, the duke. Arnoldo

said, "One of the heaviest weights upon my mind, on the subject of

Auristella, is to think how this French gentleman, who is said to be

the Duke de Nemours, can have obtained possession of her picture, since

she is under your care; it appears to have been given by her willingly,

yet _I_ possess none. Look you now, friend Periander; in this

infirmity, by lovers called jealousy, but which is rather desperate

rage, envy and scorn enter in, and when once they gain possession of

an enamoured heart, no consideration can soothe, no remedy avail, and

however small may be the causes which first engendered it, its effects

are so great that at the least they can overthrow reason, and often

can destroy the very life. Better is it for a jealous lover to die of

despair than to live in jealousy. If he be a true lover, he is not

bold enough to show his suspicions to the beloved one, and should he

be perfect enough not to show it, he cannot help feeling it, he cannot

feel secure, for things that are of great value keep their possessor in

continual fear lest he should lose them. Thus the passion of jealousy,

is one, inseparable from a heart that truly loves. I advise thee, O my

friend Periander, (if I may give advice who cannot give it to myself,)

to reflect that I am a king, and that I am very deeply in love; and

thou must be aware from a thousand proofs, that I shall accomplish in

my deeds, that which I promise in words, to receive thy peerless sister

with no other portion than that she brings so largely in her virtue and

her beauty, and that I care not to investigate what her origin may be,

since it is clear Nature cannot deny the gifts of fortune to one on

whom she has conferred so many. Never, or very rarely, are the highest

virtues found in base-born subjects, and beauty of person is oftentimes

indicative of beauty of soul, and to sum up all, I once again repeat

what I have said so often; I adore Auristella, whether she spring from

heavenly birth or from the lowest of the low; and since we are now at

Rome, where she has always promised to decide my fate, be my advocate

with her, and henceforth I divide my crown and kingdom with thee, and

do not let me be mocked by this duke, nor scorned by her whom I adore."

To all these speeches, offers, and promises, Periander thus replied:

"If my sister had been to blame with respect to the offence you have

to complain about from the duke, if I did not punish her I should at

least renounce her, and that would be to her the greatest possible

punishment; but as I know she is perfectly innocent, I cannot tell

what answer to make you, and as to the hopes which she permitted you

to form when she should have reached this city, as I cannot tell what

they were, I do not know how to answer _that_ either. For the offers

you now make, and have already made, I am as grateful as I ought to

be, considering who you are, and to whom they are made; for with all

humility be it said, O noble Arnoldo, perhaps this poor pilgrim's

frock may serve as a cloud, such as we sometimes see the sun hidden

behind. Be still for the present and compose yourself, we only arrived

yesterday, and it is not possible that, in so short a space of time,

consequences should have been deduced, traces given, and chimeras

removed, so as to bring everything right as we could wish. Avoid, as

much as possible, all encounters with the duke, for a lover who is not

encouraged, and whose hopes are weak, tries to invent and imagine what

does not exist, even though it be against the beloved object herself."

Arnoldo promised to do as he advised, and offered him money and all

that could be required to furnish magnificent entertainment both for

himself and all the party.

The conversation between the duke and Croriano was different, since it

all ran upon the determination of the duke to recover his portrait, and

to make Arnoldo confess he had no right to it. He also begged Croriano

would intercede in his favour with Auristella to accept him as her

husband, since, said he, his station was no ways inferior to that of

Arnoldo, and his family was one of the most illustrious in Europe; in

fine, he displayed great arrogance and no small jealousy, like a man

very much in love.

Croriano offered to do all he could, and to let him know what answer

Auristella gave to the offer he made her.

[Illustration]