On the same night upon which the above related events took place, the
ducal palace was brilliantly illuminated, and sounds of festivity
proceeded from the lofty portals. Duke Gualtieri held his high revel.
Troops of noble cavaliers and throngs of high-born dames filled the
grand hall of audience, at the top of which was the duke, seated upon an
elevated dais, covered with superb hangings, and surrounded by the
military chiefs of his faction. Gualtieri was a tall, muscular man of
fifty, in the expression of whose countenance a sort of soldierly
frankness struggled with a fierce and scornful air. He was splendidly
attired in a tunic of purple velvet, with hose of rich sendal, and over
his shoulder was thrown his ermined cloak. His head was covered with the
ducal coronet, and his neck encircled by a gorgeous chain of twisted
gold and jewellery. Near him stood Giulio D’Assisi, the dreaded
_bargello_, or head of police. This last was a man of middle age,
attired in scarlet robes, with a face strongly marked by the traces of
brutal passion.
“A higher measure!” shouted the duke. “By the honor of the virgin, I
think our cavaliers be ungracious to-night, or else these fair dames are
more intent upon their beads than their lavoltas. Ha! gallants? hath our
air of Florence so dull and muddy a taste to the cavaliers of Provence,
that it seemeth to quench the fire of their courtesy?”
“By my halidome!” said the _bargello_, “your highness speaks well and
merrily. The air of Florence, methinks, hath an exceeding thick
complexion, in comparison with the more delicate breezes which fan the
soil of France.”
“Thou hast aided to thicken it with a vengeance,” said the duke with a
grim smile. “Ha, Giulio, the blood of these swine of Florence, whom thou
draggest to thy shambles, might well make the air murky?”
“By the patrimony of St. Peter,” replied D’Assisi, “it is but a needful
phlebotomy. Marry, if the leech were more often employed in cleansing
the veins of your Florentine state, it were good for the health and
purification of the remaining body politic.”
“Thou art the prince of provosts, my friend,” said the duke.
“What, Rinaldo, is it thou? and away from the fair Matilde? When did
this happen before in Florence?”
The person addressed was a tall, elegant cavalier, whose manly
countenance was rendered yet more interesting by the melancholy
expression of his eyes. He was plainly, but handsomely attired in a
costly suit of dark brown velvet, embroidered with seed pearls.
“May it please your highness,” said Rinaldo, Comte D’Hunteville, (for he
was no less a personage,) “I have news of some import to communicate. An
esquire of mine, passing this night through the Porta san Piero,
discovered a person, whom he recognized as Pino D’Rossi, the chief of
the _balia_, accompanied by the Count Ugolino, and one whom he knew not,
proceeding in the direction of the palace of the Adimari. There are also
rumors of seditious meetings which have been held there, and I fear—”
“Tush, man,” interrupted De Brienne. “Canst speak of business when so
fair a throng of ladies decks our court? or couple the word fear with
these dogs of Florence? They shall be cared for; but they have lost the
power to harm. Marry, as for the will, we doubt not of that. As for that
notorious villain, Ugolino, who has dared to aspire to the hand of our
sister,” continued he, while the fire of rage sparkled in his eyes, “and
through whom such infamous aspersions have been cast upon the honor of
the house of Brienne, I have my spies upon him. The least imprudent
action he dares commit, our trusty Giulio will take order it be not
repeated. Forward, Comte D’Hunteville, to the dance!”
Hardly had the duke spoken these words, ere a man of singularly
unprepossessing countenance, entered the apartment. He was of small
stature, with a dark, thin visage; restless, inquisitive eyes, and a
hooked nose. He wore a plain, civil suit, and a walking rapier, more for
ornament than use, decorated his side. Quickly approaching the duke, he
whispered a few words in his ear. The duke started.
“Art thou mad, man? A meeting at the palace of the Adimari! Pompeo
Medici there? Why was this not known sooner? Giulio, thy spies have
misled thee for the once! Why, they were desperate enemies, in whose
feud I placed a deep dependence for safety. Rinaldo, saidst thou that
D’Rossi was there?”
“Mine esquire hath so informed me, please your grace.”
“By the mass, I doubt some treachery. When Medici and Adimari shake
hands, their union is not to be despised. But thanks at least for this
information. Hark thee, Cerettieri, be it thy care to look farther into
this matter. Arrest this Adimari and Pino D’Rossi this very night.
Away—their plans shall never be matured! So, gallants, let us again
address ourselves to the festivity of the hour.”