'Where are you going?'
Matteo and I looked at one another in amazement at the man's impudence,
and I burst forth,--
'You insolent fellow! What do you mean by stopping me like this?'
'I have a right to refuse passage to anyone I choose.'
'Take care!' I said. 'I swear the Count shall be told of your behaviour,
and nowadays the Count is in the habit of doing as the Orsi tell him.'
'He shall hear of this,' growled the Piacentini.
'Tell him what you like. Do you think I care? You can tell him that I
consider his captain a very impertinent ruffian. Now, let me go.'
'You shall not pass till I choose.'
'By God! man,' I said, absolutely beside myself, 'it seems I cannot
touch you here, but if ever we meet in Citta di Castello--'
'I will give you any satisfaction you wish,' he answered hotly.
'Satisfaction! I would not soil my sword by crossing it with yours. I
was going to say that if ever we meet in Castello I will have you
whipped by my lacqueys in the public place.'
I felt a ferocious pleasure in throwing the words of contempt in his
face.
'Come on,' said Matteo; 'we cannot waste our time here.'
We put the spurs to our horses. The soldiers looked to their captain to
see whether they should stop us, but he gave no order, and we passed
through. When we got outside, Matteo said to me,--
'Girolamo must be planning something, or Ercole would not have dared to
do that.'
'It is only the impotent anger of a foolish man,' I answered. 'The Count
will probably be very angry with him when he hears of it.'
We rode a few miles, and then Matteo turned back. When I found myself
alone I heaved a great sigh of relief. I was free for a while at
least.... Another episode in my life was finished; I could forget it,
and look forward to new things.
As I rode on, the March wind got into my blood and sent it whirling
madly through my veins. The sun was shining brightly and covered
everything with smiles; the fruit trees were all in flower--apples,
pears, almonds--the dainty buds covered the branches with a snow of pink
and white. The ground beneath them was bespattered with narcissi and
anemones, the very olive trees looked gay. All the world laughed with
joy at the bright spring morning, and I laughed louder than the rest. I
drew in long breaths of the keen air, and it made me drunk, so that I
set the spurs to my horse and galloped wildly along the silent road.
I had made up my mind to forget Giulia, and I succeeded, for the
changing scenes took me away from myself, and I was intent on the world
at large. But I could not command my dreams. At night she came to me,
and I dreamed that she was by my side, with her arms round my neck,
sweetly caressing, trying to make me forget what I had suffered. And the
waking was bitter.... But even that would leave me soon, I hoped, and
then I should be free indeed.
I rode on, full of courage and good spirits, along endless roads,
putting up at wayside inns, through the mountains, past villages and
hamlets, past thriving towns, till I found myself in the heart of
Tuscany, and finally I saw the roofs of Florence spread out before me.
After I had cleaned myself at the inn and had eaten, I sauntered through
the town, renewing my recollections. I walked round Madonna del Fiore,
and leaning against one of the houses at the back of the piazza looked
at the beautiful apse, the marble all glistening in the moonlight. It
was very quiet and peaceful; the exquisite church filled me with a sense
of rest and purity, so that I cast far from me all vice.... Then I went
to the baptistery and tried to make out in the dim light the details of
Ghiberti's wonderful doors. It was late and the streets were silent as
I strolled to the Piazza della Signoria, and saw before me the grim
stone palace with its tower, and I came down to the Arno and looked at
the glistening of the water, with the bridge covered with houses; and as
I considered the beauty of it all I thought it strange that the works of
man should be so good and pure and man himself so vile.
Next day I set about my business. I had a special letter of introduction
to Lorenzo, and was ushered in to him by a clerk. I found two people in
the room; one, a young man with a long, oval face, and the bones of the
face and chin very strongly marked; he had a very wonderful skin, like
brown ivory, black hair that fell over his forehead and ears, and, most
striking of all, large brown eyes, very soft and melancholy. I thought I
had never before seen a man quite so beautiful. Seated by him, talking
with animation, was an insignificant man, bent and wrinkled and mean,
looking like a clerk in a cloth merchant's shop, except for the massive
golden chain about his neck and the dress of dark red velvet with an
embroidered collar. His features were ugly; a large, coarse nose, a
heavy, sensual mouth, small eyes, but very sharp and glittering; the
hair thin and short, the skin muddy, yellow, wrinkled--Lorenzo de'
Medici!
As I entered the room, he interrupted himself and spoke to me in a
harsh, disagreeable voice.
'Messer Filippo Brandolini, I think. You are very welcome.'
'I am afraid I interrupt you,' I said, looking at the youth with the
melancholy eyes.
'Oh no,' answered Lorenzo, gaily. 'We were talking of Plato. I really
ought to have been attending to very much more serious matters, but I
never can resist Pico.'
Then that was the famous Pico della Mirandola. I looked at him again and
felt envious that one person should be possessed of such genius and such
beauty. It was hardly fair on Nature's part.
'It is more the subject than I that is irresistible.'
'Ah, the banquet!' said Lorenzo, clasping his hands. 'What an
inexhaustible matter! I could go on talking about it all day and all
night for a year, and then find I had left unsaid half what I had in my
mind.'
'You have so vast an experience in the subject treated of,' said Pico,
laughing; 'you could give a chapter of comment to every sentence of
Plato.'
'You rascal, Pico!' answered Lorenzo, also laughing. 'And what is your
opinion of love, Messer?' he added, turning to me.