THE MEETING.
On the bank of the Arno, in a somewhat retired situation, stood a neat
cottage in the midst of a little garden, surrounded by no formal pile of
bricks to constitute a wall, but protected only by its own sweet hedge
or fragrant shrubs and blooming plants. Over the portico of the humble
but comfortable tenement twined the honeysuckle and the clematis; and
the sides of the building were almost completely veiled by the vines
amidst the verdant foliage of which appeared large hunches of purple
grapes.
At an open casement on the ground floor, an elderly female, very plainly
but very neatly attired, and wearing a placid smile and a good-natured
expression upon a countenance which had once been handsome, sat watching
the glorious spectacle of the setting sun. The orb of day went down in a
flood of purple and gold, behind the western hills; and now the dame
began suddenly to cast uneasy glances toward the path that led along the
bank of the river.
But the maiden for whose return the good aunt felt anxious, was not far
distant; indeed Flora Francatelli, wearing a thick veil over her head,
was already proceeding homeward after a short ramble by the margin of
the stream, when the reverie in which she was plunged was interrupted by
the sounds of hasty footsteps behind. Ever fearful of treachery since
the terrible incident of her imprisonment in the Carmelite Convent, she
redoubled her speed, blaming herself for having been beguiled by the
beauty of the evening to prolong her walk farther than she intended on
setting out--when the increasing haste of the footsteps behind her
excited the keenest alarms within her bosom--for she now felt convinced
that she was pursued.
The cottage was already in sight, and a hundred paces only separated her
from its door, when a well-known voice--a voice which caused every fiber
in her heart to thrill with surprise and joy--exclaimed: "Flora! beloved
one; fly not! Oh! I could not be deceived in the symmetry of thy
form--the graciousness of thy gait--I knew it was thou."
And in another moment the maiden was clasped in the arms of Francisco,
Count of Riverola. Impossible were it to describe the ecstatic bliss of
this meeting--a meeting so unexpected on either side: for a minute
before, Flora had deemed the young nobleman to be far away, fighting in
the cause of the cross, while Francisco was proceeding to make inquiries
at the cottage concerning his beloved, but with a heart that scarcely
dared nourish a hope of her reappearance.
"Oh! my well-beloved Flora!" exclaimed Francisco; "and are we indeed
thus blest, or is it a delusive dream? But tell me, sweet maiden, tell
me whether thou hast ceased to think of one, from whose memory thine
image has never been absent since the date of thy sudden and mysterious
disappearance."
Flora could not reply in words--her heart was too full for the utterance
of her feelings; but as she raised the veil from her charming
countenance, the tears of joy which stood upon her long lashes, and the
heavenly smile which played upon her lips, and the deep blushes which
overspread her cheeks spoke far more eloquently of unaltered affection
than all the vows and pledges which might have flowed from the tongue.
"Thou lovest me--lovest me--lovest me still!" exclaimed the enraptured
count, again clasping her in his arms, and now imprinting innumerable
kisses on her lips, her cheeks, and her fair brow. Hasty explanations
speedily ensued, and Francisco now learnt for the first time the cause
of Flora's disappearance--her incarceration in the convent--and the
particulars of her release.
"But who could have been the author of that outrage?" exclaimed the
count, his cheeks flushing with indignation, and his hand instinctively
grasping his sword; "whom could you, sweet maiden, have offended? what
fiend thus vented his malignity on thee?"
"Hold, my lord!" cried Flora, in a beseeching tone; "perhaps you----"
And she checked herself abruptly.
"Call me not '_my lord_,' dearest maiden," said the count; "to thee I am
Francisco, as thou to me art Flora--my own beloved Flora! But wherefore
didst thou stop short thus? wherefore not conclude the sentence that was
half uttered? Oh, Flora--a terrible suspicion strikes me! Speak--relieve
me from the cruel suspicion under which I now labor; was it my
sister--my much lamented sister, who did thee that foul wrong?"
"I know not," replied Flora, weeping; "but--alas! pardon me, dear
Francisco--if I suspect aught so bad of any one connected with thee--and
yet Heaven knows how freely, how sincerely I forgive my enemy----" Her
voice was lost in sobs; and her head drooped on her lover's breast.
"Weep not, dearest one!" exclaimed Francisco. "Let not our meeting be
rendered mournful with tears. Thou knowest, perhaps, that Nisida
disappeared as suddenly and as mysteriously as thou didst; but could she
also have become the victim of the Carmelites? And did she, alas! perish
in the ruins of the convent?"
"I am well assured that the Lady Nisida was not doomed to that fate,"
answered Flora; "for had she been consigned to the convent, as a
punishment for some real offense, or on some groundless charge, she must
have passed the ordeal of the chamber of penitence, where I should have
seen her. Yes, Francisco--I have heard of her mysterious disappearance,
and I have shed many, many tears when I have thought of her, poor lady!
although," added the maiden in a low and plaintive tone, "I fear,
Francisco, that it was indeed she who doomed me to that monastic
dungeon. Doubtless, her keen perception--far more keen than in those who
are blessed with the faculties which were lost to her--enabled her to
penetrate the secret of that affection with which you had honored me,
and in which I felt so much happiness."
"I confessed my love to Nisida," interrupted Francisco; "but it was not
until your disappearance I was driven to despair, Flora. I was mad with
grief, and I could not, neither did I, attempt to conceal my emotion. I
told Nisida all: and well--oh! well--do I recollect the reply which she
gave me, giving fond assurance that my happiness would alone be
consulted."
"Alas! Was there no double meaning in that assurance?" asked Flora,
gently. "The Lady Nisida knew well how inconsistent with your high
rank--your proud fortunes--your great name, was that love which you bore
for a humble and obscure girl----"
"A love which I shall not be ashamed to own in the sight of all
Florence," exclaimed Francisco in an impassioned tone. "But if Nisida
were the cause of that cruel outrage on thee, my Flora, we will forgive
her--for she could have acted only through conscientious, though most
mistaken, motives. Mistaken, indeed! for never could I have known
happiness again hadst thou not been restored to me. It was to wean my
mind from pondering on afflictions that goaded me to despair that I
embarked in the cause of Christendom against the encroachments of Moslem
power. Thinking that thou wast forever lost to me--that my sister also
had become the victim of some murderous hand,--harassed by doubts the
most cruel--an uncertainty the most agonizing,--I sought death on the
walls of Rhodes; but the destroying angel's arrow rebounded from my
corselet--his sword was broken against my shield!
"During my voyage back to Italy--after beholding the crescent planted on
the walls where the Christian standard had floated for so many, many
years--a storm overtook the ship; and yet the destroying angel gave me
not the death I courted. This evening I once more set foot in Florence.
From my own mansion Nisida is still absent: and no tidings have been
received of her. Alas! is she then lost to me forever? Without tarrying
even to change my travel-soiled clothes, I set out to make inquiries
concerning another whom I love--and that other is thyself! Here, thanks
to a merciful Heaven, my heart has not been doomed to experience a
second and equally cruel disappointment; for I have found thee at last,
my Flora--and henceforth my arm shall protect thee from peril."
"How have I deserved so much kindness at thine hands?" murmured the
maiden, again drooping her blushing head. "And oh! what will you think,
Francisco--what will you say, when you learn that I was there--there in
that cottage--with my aunt--when you called the last time to inquire if
any tidings had been received of me----"
"You were there!" exclaimed Francisco, starting back in surprise not
unmingled with anger; "you were there, Flora--and you knew that I was in
despair concerning thee--that I would have given worlds to have heard of
thy safety,--I, who thought that some fiend in human shape had sent thee
to an early grave?"
"Forgive me, Francisco: forgive me!" cried Flora, bursting into tears;
"but it was not my fault! On the night following the one in which the
banditti stormed the convent, as I ere now detailed to your ears, I
returned home to my aunt. When the excitement of our meeting was past,
and when we were alone together, I threw myself at her feet, confessed
all that had passed between thee and me, and implored her advice.
"'Flora,' she said, while her tears fell upon me as I knelt, 'no
happiness will come to thee, my child, from this attachment which has
already plunged thee into so much misery. It is beyond all doubt certain
that the relations of the count were the authors of thy imprisonment;
and their persecutions would only be renewed, were they to learn that
the count was made aware of your reappearance in Florence. For thy sake,
then, my child, I shall suffer the impression of thy continued absence
and loss to remain on the minds of those who may inquire concerning
thee; and should his lordship call here again, most especially to him
shall I appear stricken with grief on account of thee. His passion, my
child, is one of boyhood--evanescent, though ardent while it endures. He
will soon forget thee; and when he shall have learnt to love another
there will no longer be any necessity for thee to live an existence of
concealment.'
"Thus spoke my aunt, dear Francisco, and I dared not gainsay her. When
you came the last time. I heard your voice; I listened from my chamber
door to all you said to my aunt, and I longed to fly into your arms. You
went away and my heart was nearly broken. Some days afterward we learnt
the strange disappearance of the Lady Nisida and then knew that you must
have received a severe blow, for I was well aware how much you loved
her. Two or three weeks elapsed, and then we heard that you were about
to depart to the wars. Oh! how bitter were the tears that I shed, how
fervent were the prayers that I offered up for your safety."
"And those prayers have been heard on high, beloved one, exclaimed
Francisco, who had listened with melting heart and returning tenderness
to the narrative which the maiden told so simply but so sincerely, and
in the most plaintive tones of her musical voice.
"Can you forgive me now?" asked the blushing maiden, her swimming eyes
bending on her lover glances eloquently expressive of hope.
"I have nothing to forgive, sweet girl," replied Francisco. "Your aunt
behaved with a prudence which in justice I cannot condemn; and you acted
with an obedience and submission to your venerable relative which I
could not be arbitrary enough to blame. We have both endured much for
each other, my Flora; but the days of our trials are passed; and your
good aunt will be convinced that in giving your young heart to me, you
have not confided in one who is undeserving of so much love. Let us
hasten into her presence. But one question have I yet to ask you," he
added, suddenly recollecting an idea which had ere now made some
impression on his mind. "You informed me how you were liberated from the
convent, and you mentioned the name of the Countess of Arestino, whom
circumstances had made your companion in that establishment, and to whom
your aunt gave an asylum. Know you not, dearest Flora, that fame reports
not well of that same Giulia of Arestino--and that a woman of tarnished
reputation is no fitting associate for an innocent and artless maiden
such as thou?"
"During the period that the Lady of Arestino and myself were companions
in captivity," responded Flora, with a frankness as amiable as it was
convincing, "she never in the most distant manner alluded to her love
for the Marquis of Orsini. When the marquis appeared in the convent, in
company with the robbers, I was far too much bewildered with the passing
events, to devote a thought to what might be the nature of their
connection; and even when I had more leisure for reflection, during the
entire day which I passed in the stronghold of the banditti, I saw
naught in it save what I conceived to be the bond of close relationship.
I offered her ladyship an asylum at the abode of my aunt, as I should
have given a home, under such circumstances, to the veriest wretch
crawling on the face of the earth. But in that cottage the countess and
myself have not continued in close companionship; for my aunt
accidentally learnt that fame reported not well of the Lady of Arestino,
and in a gentle manner she begged her to seek another home at her
earliest leisure. The countess implored my venerable relative to permit
her to retrain at the cottage, as her life would be in danger were she
not afforded a sure and safe asylum. Moved by her earnest entreaties, my
aunt assented; and the countess has almost constantly remained in her
own chamber. Sometimes--but very rarely--she goes forth after dusk, and
in a deep disguise; the marquis has not, however, visited the cottage
since my aunt made this discovery relative to the reputation of the Lady
of Arestino."
"Thanks, charming Flora, for that explanation!" cried the young count.
"Let us now hasten to thine aunt; and in her presence will I renew to
thee all the vows of unalterable and honorable affection which my heart
suggests, as a means of proving that I am worthy of thy love."
And, hand-in-hand, that fine young noble and that beauteous, blushing
maiden proceeded to the cottage.
Two persons, concealed in an adjacent grove, had overheard every
syllable of the above conversation. These were the valet Antonio, and
his mother, Dame Margaretha, at whose dwelling, it will be recollected,
the unfortunate Agnes had so long resided, under the protection of the
late Count of Riverola.
"This is fortunate, mother!" said Antonio, when Francisco and Flora had
retired from the vicinity of the grove. "You are spared the trouble of a
visit to the old Signora Francatelli; and I have learned sufficient to
enable me to work out all my plans alike of aggrandizement and revenge.
Let us retrace our way into the city; thou wilt return to thy home--and
I shall hence straight to the Lord Count of Arestino."