that, from respect to her presence, they hesitated to appear, she
replied to the message they sent her, with tears in her eyes, begging
them to come and see her, which she declared to be now the best proof of
their respect as well as interest; since, if they could not remedy, they
might at least console her misfortunes.
Thus exhorted, the gentlemen obeyed, and Cornelia received them with a
smiling face and great cordiality. She then entreated that they would do
her the kindness to walk about the city, and ascertain if anything had
transpired concerning her affairs. They replied, that they had already
done so, with all possible care, but that not a word had been said
reacting the matter.
At this moment, one of the three pages who served the gentlemen
approached the door of the room telling his masters from without, that
there was then at the street door, attended by two servants, a
gentleman, who called himself Lorenzo Bentivoglio, and inquired for the
Signor Don Juan de Gamboa. Hearing this message, Cornelia clasped her
hands, and placing them on her mouth, she exclaimed, in a low and
trembling voice, while her words came with difficulty through those
clenched fingers, "It is my brother, Signors! it is my brother! Without
doubt he has learned that I am here, and has come to take my life. Help
and aid, Signors! help and aid!"
"Calm yourself, lady," replied Don Antonio; "you are in a place of
safety, and with people who will not suffer the smallest injury to be
offered you. The Signor Don Juan will go to inquire what this gentleman
demands, and I will remain to defend you, if need be, from all
disturbance."
Don Juan prepared to descend accordingly, and Don Antonio, taking his
loaded pistols, bade the pages belt on their swords, and hold themselves
in readiness for whatever might happen. The housekeeper, seeing these
preparations began to tremble,--Cornelia, dreading some fearful result
was in grievous terror,--Don Juan and Don Antonio alone preserved their
coolness.
Arrived at the door of the house, Don Juan found Don Lorenzo, who,
coming towards him, said, "I entreat your Lordship"--for such is the
form of address among Italians--"I entreat your Lordship to do me the
kindness to accompany me to the neighbouring church; I have to speak to
you respecting an affair which concerns my life and honour."
"Very willingly," replied Don Juan. "Let us go, Signor, wherever you
please."
They walked side by side to the church, where they seated themselves on
a retired bench, so as not to be overheard. Don Lorenzo was the first to
break silence.
"Signor Spaniard," he said, "I am Lorenzo Bentivoglio; if not of the
richest, yet of one of the most important families belonging to this
city; and if this seem like boasting of myself, the notoriety of the
fact may serve as my excuse for naming it. I was left an orphan many
years since, and to my guardianship was left a sister, so beautiful,
that if she were not nearly connected with me, I might perhaps describe
her in terms that, while they might seem exaggerated, would yet not by
any means do justice to her attractions. My honour being very dear to
me, and she being very young, as well as beautiful, I took all possible
care to guard her at all points; but my best precautions have proved
vain; the self-will of Cornelia, for that is her name, has rendered all
useless. In a word, and not to weary you--for this story might become a
long one,--I will but tell you, that the Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso
d'Este, vanquishing the eyes of Argus by those of a lynx, has rendered
all my cares vain, by carrying off my sister last night from the house
of one of our kindred; and it is even said that she has already become a
mother.
"The misfortune of our house was made known to me last night, and I
instantly placed myself on the watch; nay, I met and even attacked
Alfonso, sword in hand; but he was succoured in good time by some angel,
who would not permit me to efface in his blood the stain he has put upon
me. My relation has told me, (and it is from her I have heard all,) that
the duke deluded my sister, under a promise to make her his wife; but
this I do not believe, for, in respect to present station and wealth,
the marriage would not be equal, although, in point of blood, all the
world knows how noble are the Bentivogli of Bologna. What I fear is,
that the duke has done, what is but too easy when a great and powerful
Prince desires to win a timid and retiring girl: he has merely called
her by the tender name of wife, and made her believe that certain
considerations have prevented him from marrying her at once,--a
plausible pretence, but false and perfidious.
"Be that as it may, I see myself at once deprived of my sister and my
honour. Up to this moment I have kept the matter secret, purposing not
to make known the outrage to any one, until I see whether there may not
be some remedy, or means of satisfaction to be obtained. It is better
that a disgrace of this kind be supposed and suspected, than certainly
and distinctly known--seeing that between the yes and the no of a doubt,
each inclines to the opinion that most attracts him, and both sides of
the question find defenders. Considering all these things, I have
determined to repair to Ferrara, and there demand satisfaction from the
duke himself. If he refuse it, I will then offer him defiance. Yet my
defiance cannot be made with armed bands, for I could neither get them
together nor maintain them but as from man to man. For this it is,
then, that I desire your aid. I hope you will accompany me in the
journey; nay, I am confident that you will do so, being a Spaniard and a
gentleman, as I am told you are.
"I cannot entrust my purpose to any relation or friend of my family,
knowing well that from them I should have nothing more than objections
and remonstrances, while from you I may hope for sensible and honourable
counsels, even though there should be peril in pursuing them. You must
do me the favour to go with me, Signor. Having a Spaniard, and such as
you appear to be, at my side, I shall account myself to have the armies
of Xerxes. I am asking much at your hands; but the duty of answering
worthily to what fame publishes of your nation, would oblige you to do
still more than I ask."
"No more, Signor Lorenzo," exclaimed Don Juan, who had not before
interrupted the brother of Cornelia; "no more. From this moment I accept
the office you propose to me, and will be your defender and counsellor.
I take upon myself the satisfaction of your honour, or due vengeance for
the affront you have received, not only because I am a Spaniard, but
because I am a gentleman, and you another, so noble, as you have said,
as I know you to be, and as, indeed, all the world reputes you. When
shall we set out? It would be better that we did so immediately, for a
man does ever well to strike while the iron is hot. The warmth of anger
increases courage, and a recent affront more effectually awakens
vengeance."
Hearing this, Don Lorenzo rose and embraced Don Juan, saying to him, "A
person so generous as yourself, Signor Don Juan, needs no other
incentive than that of the honour to be gained in such a cause: this
honour you have assured to yourself to-day, if we come out happily from
our adventure; but I offer you in addition all I can do, or am worth.
Our departure I would have to be to-morrow, since I can provide all
things needful to-day."
"This appears to me well decided," replied Don Juan, "but I must beg
you, Signor Don Lorenzo, to permit me to make all known to a gentleman
who is my friend, and of whose honour and silence I can assure you even
more certainly than of my own, if that were possible."
"Since you, Signor Don Juan," replied Lorenzo, "have taken charge, as
you say, of my honour, dispose of this matter as you please; and make it
known to whom and in what manner it shall seem best to you; how much
more, then, to a companion of your own, for what can he be but
everything that is best."
This said, the gentlemen embraced each other and took leave, after
having agreed that on the following morning Lorenzo should send to
summon Don Juan at an hour fixed on when they should mount their horses
and pursue their journey in the disguise that Don Lorenzo had selected.
Don Juan then returned, and gave an account of all that had passed to
Don Antonio and Cornelia, not omitting the engagement into which he had
entered for the morrow.
"Good heavens, Signor!" exclaimed Cornelia; "what courtesy! what
confidence! to think of your committing yourself without hesitation to
an undertaking so replete with difficulties! How can you know whether
Lorenzo will take you to Ferrara, or to what place indeed he may conduct
you? But go with him whither you may, be certain that the very soul of
honour and good faith will stand beside you. For myself, unhappy
creature that I am, I shall be terrified at the very atoms that dance in
the sunbeams, and tremble at every shadow; but how can it be otherwise,
since on the answer of Duke Alfonso depends my life or death. How do I
know that he will reply with sufficient courtesy to prevent the anger of
my brother from passing the limits of discretion? and if Lorenzo should
draw the sword, think ye he will have a despicable enemy to encounter?
Must not I remain through all the days of your absence in a state of
mortal suspense and terror, awaiting the favourable or grievous
intelligence that you shall bring me! Do I love either my brother or the
duke so little as not to tremble for both, and not feel the injury of
either to my soul?"
"Your fears affect your judgment, Signora Cornelia," replied Don Juan;
"and they go too far. Amidst so many terrors, you should give some place
to hope, and trust in God. Put some faith also in my care, and in the
earnest desire I feel to see your affairs attain to a happy conclusion.
Your brother cannot avoid making this journey to Ferrara, nor can I
excuse myself from accompanying him thither. For the present we do not
know the intentions of the duke, nor even whether he be or be not
acquainted with your elopement. All this we must learn from his own
mouth; and there is no one who can better make the inquiry than myself.
Be certain, Signora, that the welfare and satisfaction of both your
brother and the Signor Duke are to me as the apples of my eyes, and that
I will care for the safety of the one as of the other."
"Ah Signor Don Juan," replied Cornelia, "if Heaven grant you as much
power to remedy, as grace to console misfortune, I must consider myself
exceedingly fortunate in the midst of my sorrows; and now would I fain
see you gone and returned; for the whole time of your absence I must
pass suspended between hope and fear."
The determination of Don Juan was approved by Don Antonio, who commended
him for the justification which he had thereby given to the confidence
of Lorenzo Bentivoglio. He furthermore told his friend that he would
gladly accompany him, to be ready for whatever might happen, but Don
Juan replied--"Not so; first, because you must remain for the better
security of the lady Cornelia, whom it will not be well to leave alone;
and secondly, because I would not have Signor Lorenzo suppose that I
desire to avail myself of the arm of another." "But my arm is your own,"
returned Don Antonio, "wherefore, if I must even disguise myself, and
can but follow you at a distance, I will go with you; and as to Signora
Cornelia, I know well that she will prefer to have me accompany you,
seeing that she will not here want people who can serve and guard her."
"Indeed," said Cornelia, "it will be a great consolation to me to know
that you are together, Signors, or at least so near as to be able to
assist each other in case of necessity; and since the undertaking you
are going on appears to be dangerous, do me the favour, gentlemen, to
take these Relics with you." Saying this, Cornelia drew from her bosom a
diamond cross, of great value, with an Agnus of gold equally rich and
costly. The two gentlemen looked at the magnificent jewels, which they
esteemed to be of still greater value than the decoration of the hat;
but they returned them to the lady, each saying that he carried Relics
of his own, which, though less richly decorated, were at least equally
efficacious. Cornelia regretted much that they would not accept those
she offered, but she was compelled to submit.
The housekeeper was now informed of the departure of her masters,
though not of their destination, or of the purpose for which they went.
She promised to take the utmost care of the lady, whose name she did not
know, and assured her masters that she would be so watchful as to
prevent her suffering in any manner from their absence.
Early the following morning Lorenzo was at the door, where he found Don
Juan ready. The latter had assumed a travelling dress, with the rich
sombrero presented by the duke, and which he had adorned with black and
yellow plumes, placing a black covering over the band of brilliants. He
went to take leave of Cornelia, who, knowing that her brother was near,
fell into an agony of terror, and could not say one word to the two
friends who were bidding her adieu. Don Juan went out the first, and
accompanied Lorenzo beyond the walls of the city, where they found their
servants waiting with the horses in a retired garden. They mounted, rode
on before, and the servants guided their masters in the direction of
Ferrara by ways but little known. Don Antonio followed on a low pony,
and with such a change of apparel as sufficed to disguise him; but
fancying that they regarded him with suspicion, especially Lorenzo, he
determined to pursue the highway, and rejoin his friend in Ferrara,
where he was certain to find him with but little difficulty.
The Spaniards had scarcely got clear of the city before Cornelia had
confided her whole history to the housekeeper, informing her that the
infant belonged to herself and to the Duke of Ferrara, and making her
acquainted with all that has been related, not concealing from her that
the journey made by her masters was to Ferrara, or that they went
accompanied by her brother, who was going to challenge the Duke Alfonso.
Hearing all this, the housekeeper, as though the devil had sent her to
complicate the difficulties and defer the restoration of Cornelia, began
to exclaim--"Alas! lady of my soul! all these things have happened to
you, and you remain carelessly there with your limbs stretched out, and
doing nothing! Either you have no soul at all, or you have one so poor
and weak that you do not feel it! And do you really suppose that your
brother has gone to Ferrara? Believe nothing of the kind, but rather be
sure that he has carried off my masters, and wiled them from the house,
that he may return and take your life, for he can now do it as one
would drink a cup of water. Consider only under what kind of guard and
protection we are left--that of three pages, who have enough to do with
their own pranks, and are little likely to put their hands to any thing
good. I, for my part, shall certainly not have courage to await what
must follow, and the destruction that cannot but come upon this house.
The Signor Lorenzo, an Italian, to put his trust in Spaniards, and ask
help and favour from them! By the light of my eyes. I will believe none
of that!" So saying, she made a fig[3] at herself. "But if you, my
daughter, will take good advice, I will give you such as shall truly
enlighten your way."
[3] A gesture of contempt or playfulness, as the case may be, and which
consists in a certain twist of the fingers and thumb.
Cornelia was thrown into a pitiable state of alarm and confusion by
these declarations of the housekeeper, who spoke with so much heat, and
gave so many evidences of terror, that all she said appeared to be the
very truth. The lady pictured to herself Don Antonio and Don Juan as
perhaps already dead; she fancied her brother even then coming in at the
door, and felt herself already pierced by the blows of his poniard. She
therefore replied, "What advice do you then give me, good friend, that
may prevent the catastrophe which threatens us?"
"I will give you counsel so good," rejoined the housekeeper, "that
better could not be. I, Signora, was formerly in the service of a
priest, who has his abode in a village not more than two miles from
Ferrara. He is a good and holy man, who will do whatever I require from
him, since he is under more obligations to me than merely those of a
master to a faithful servant. Let us go to him. I will seek some one who
shall conduct us thither instantly; and the woman who comes to nurse the
infant is a poor creature, who will go with us to the end of the world.
And, now make ready, Signora; for supposing you are to be discovered, it
would be much better that you should be found under the care of a good
priest, old and respected, than in the hands of two young students,
bachelors and Spaniards, who, as I can myself bear witness, are but
little disposed to lose occasions for amusing themselves. Now that you
are unwell, they treat you with respect; but if you get well and remain
in their clutches, Heaven alone will be able to help you; for truly, if
my cold disdain and repulses had not been my safeguard, they would long
since have torn my honour to rags. All is not gold that glitters. Men
say one thing, but think another: happily, it is with me that they have
to do; and I am not to be deceived, but know well when the shoe pinches
my foot. Above all, I am well born, for I belong to the Crivellis of
Milan, and I carry the point of honour ten thousand feet above the
clouds; by this you may judge, Signora, through what troubles I have had
to pass, since, being what I am, I have been brought to serve as the
housekeeper of Spaniards, or as, what they call, their _gouvernante_.
Not that I have, in truth, any complaint to make of my masters, who are
a couple of half-saints[4] when they are not put into a rage. And, in
this respect, they would seem to be Biscayans, as, indeed, they say they
are. But, after all, they may be Galicians, which is another nation, and
much less exact than the Biscayans; neither are they so much to be
depended on as the people of the Bay."
[4] The original is _benditos_, which sometimes means simpleton, but is
here equivalent to the Italian _beato_, and must be rendered as in the
text.
By all this verbiage, and more beside, the bewildered lady was induced
to follow the advice of the old woman, insomuch that, in less than four
hours after the departure of the friends, their housekeeper making all
arrangements, and Cornelia consenting, the latter was seated in a
carriage with the nurse of the babe, and without being heard by the
pages they set off on their way to the curate's village. All this was
done not only by the advice of the housekeeper, but also with her money;
for her masters had just before paid her a year's wages, and therefore
it was not needful that she should take a jewel which Cornelia had
offered her for the purposes of their journey.
Having heard Don Juan say that her brother and himself would not follow
the highway to Ferrara, but proceed thither by retired paths, Cornelia
thought it best to take the high road. She bade the driver, go slowly,
that they might not overtake the gentlemen in any case; and the master
of the carriage was well content to do as they liked, since they had
paid him as he liked.
We will leave them on their way, which they take with as much boldness
as good direction, and let us see what happened to Don Juan de Gamboa
and Signor Lorenzo Bentivoglio. On their way they heard that the duke
had not gone to Ferrara, but was still at Bologna, wherefore, abandoning
the round they were making, they regained the high road, considering
that it was by this the duke would travel on his return to Ferrara. Nor
had they long entered thereon before they perceived a troop of men on
horseback coming as it seemed from Bologna.
Don Juan then begged Lorenzo to withdraw to a little distance, since, if
the duke should chance to be of the company approaching, it would be
desirable that he should speak to him before he could enter Ferrara,
which was but a short distance from them. Lorenzo complied, and as soon
as he had withdrawn, Don Juan removed the covering by which he had
concealed the rich ornament of his hat; but this was not done without
some little indiscretion, as he was himself the first to admit some time
after.
Meanwhile the travellers approached; among them came a woman on a
pied-horse, dressed in a travelling habit, and her face covered with a
silk mask, either to conceal her features, or to shelter them from the
effects of the sun and air.
Don Juan pulled up his horse in the middle of the road, and remained
with his face uncovered, awaiting the arrival of the cavalcade. As they
approached him, the height, good looks, and spirited attitude of the
Spaniard, the beauty of his horse, his peculiar dress, and, above all,
the lustre of the diamonds on his hat, attracted the eyes of the whole
party but especially those of the Duke of Ferrara, the principal
personage of the group, who no sooner beheld the band of brilliants than
he understood the cavalier before him to be Don Juan de Gamboa, his
deliverer in the combat frequently alluded to. So well convinced did he
feel of this, that, without further question, he rode up to Don Juan,
saying, "I shall certainly not deceive myself, Signor Cavalier, if I
call you Don Juan de Gamboa, for your spirited looks, and the decoration
you wear on your hat, alike assure me of the fact."
"It is true that I am the person you say," replied Don Juan. "I have
never yet desired to conceal my name; but tell me, Signor, who you are
yourself, that I may not be surprised into any discourtesy."
"Discourtesy from you, Signor, would be impossible," rejoined the duke.
"I feel sure that you could not be discourteous in any case; but I
hasten to tell you, nevertheless, that I am the Duke of Ferrara, and a
man who will be bound to do you service all the days of his life, since
it is but a few nights since you gave him that life which must else have
been lost."
Alfonzo had not finished speaking, when Don Juan, springing lightly from
his horse, hastened to kiss the feet of the duke; but, with all his
agility, the latter was already out of the saddle, and alighted in the
arms of the Spaniard.
Seeing this, Signor Lorenzo, who could but observe these ceremonies from
a distance, believed that what he beheld was the effect of anger rather
than courtesy; he therefore put his horse to its speed, but pulled up
midway on perceiving that the duke and Don Juan were of a verity clasped
in each other's arms. It then chanced that Alfonso, looking over the
shoulders of Don Juan, perceived Lorenzo, whom he instantly recognised;
and somewhat disconcerted at his appearance, while still holding Don
Juan embraced, he inquired if Lorenzo Bentivoglio, whom he there beheld,
had come with him or not. Don Juan replied, "Let us move somewhat apart
from this place, and I will relate to your excellency some very singular
circumstances."
The duke having done as he was requested, Don Juan said to him, "My Lord
Duke, I must tell you that Lorenzo Bentivoglio, whom you there see, has
a cause of complaint against you, and not a light one; he avers that
some nights since you took his sister, the Lady Cornelia, from the house
of a lady, her cousin, and that you have deceived her, and dishonoured
his house; he desires therefore to know what satisfaction you propose to
make for this, that he may then see what it behoves him to do. He has
begged me to be his aid and mediator in the matter, and I have consented
with a good will, since, from certain indications which he gave me, I
perceived that the person of whom he complained, and yourself, to whose
liberal courtesy I owe this rich ornament, were one and the same. Thus,
seeing that none could more effectually mediate between you than myself,
I offered to undertake that office willingly, as I have said; and now I
would have you tell me, Signor, if you know aught of this matter, and
whether what Lorenzo has told me be true."