VIII
The duke saw a glimmer of light in one of the four palace towers. It was the lamp of Messer Ambrogio da Rosate, prime astrologer, and a member of the Secret Council, who was observing the conjunction of Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn in the sign of Aquarius, a matter of profound significance for the house of Sforza.
As if pricked in his memory, the duke hastily saluted Madonna Lucrezia, with whom he had been engaged in tender discourse, and entered the palace. He looked at the clock, and having awaited the precise minute and second enjoined by the astrologer, swallowed a rhubarb pill, and consulted a calendar in which he read the following note:—
'August 5th.—Eight minutes past ten of the evening, pray heartily on your knees, after folding your hands and raising your eyes to Heaven.'
Fearing to be late, and so miss the prescription's efficacy, he hurried to the chapel, unlighted save by a single lamp before a picture. The duke loved the picture; it was by Leonardo, and represented Cecilia, Countess of Bergamini, arrayed like the Madonna, blessing a hundred-petalled rose. He counted eight minutes by the hour-glass, sank on his knees, folded his hands, and recited the Confiteor. He prayed long and fervently, his eyes on the picture.
'Mother of God,' he murmured, 'protect, save, and have mercy on me, on my son Massimiliano, and Cesare, the newly-born. I commend unto thee Beatrice, my consort, and Madonna Cecilia. And likewise Gian Galeazzo, my nephew, for thou see'st my heart, and knowest that I wish no evil to my nephew, though it may be that his death would set free not only my state, but all Italy.'
Here he remembered the proof of his right to his throne which he had obtained from the jurisconsult, and which stated that his elder brother (father of Gian Galeazzo) having been born unto Francesco Sforza, the condottiere, before he became Francesco Sforza and Duke of Milan, whereas Ludovico was born unto the said Francesco after he had become duke—the younger not the elder was obviously the heir to the ducal dignities of the common father.
At this moment, however, the decision seemed to Ludovico rather ingenious than convincing. He hesitated to put it before the Mother of God, contenting himself thus:—
'If in anything I have sinned or shall sin before thee, O Queen of Heaven, thou knowest that I do so not for myself but for the good of my people and of Italy. Mediate for me with God, and I will glorify thee by the building in splendour of the cathedral in this town of Milan, and of the Certosa at Pavia, and of other glorious monuments.'
After his prayer, candle in hand, he went toward his bedchamber, passing through the dark rooms of the sleeping palace. In one of them, however, he encountered Madonna Lucrezia.
'Truly, the god of Love favours me!' he thought.
'Signore!' exclaimed the girl; her voice broke, she would have thrown herself on her knees before him, as she added, 'have pity on me, my lord!'
And she told him that her brother Matteo Crivelli, chief of the chamberlains, a man of abandoned life but whom she devotedly loved, had lost at play great sums of the public money.
'Fear not, madonna! I will save your brother.'
He was silent for a moment, and added with a deep sigh:—
'And you too, O madonna, will you not be to me less cruel?'
She looked questioningly at him with serene and innocent eyes.
'I do not understand you, signore. What is your meaning?'
Her modesty rendered her yet fairer.
'It means, my sweet,' he said, throwing his arm almost roughly round her, 'it means—but, Lucrezia, have you not seen that I love you?'
'Loose me! Let me go! What do you, signore! Madonna Beatrice——'
'Shall not know!' said the duke.
'No, my lord, no. She is so good, so generous to me. Leave me, for pity's sake—'
'I will save your brother—do all your desire—be your slave. Only have pity on me.'
And half-sincere in his passion and his tears, he murmured in trembling tones those lines of the poet's:—
'I sing, poor swan, of my consumèd years,
But singing brings my torture no relief;
Love with his laughter blows the flame of grief,
And mocking cries, "Extinguish it with tears."'
'Let me go! Let me go!' said the girl desperately.
But he bent over her, feeling the freshness of her breath, the perfume of violet and musk, and forcibly kissed her on the lips. For one moment Lucrezia languished in his embrace, then, with a despairing cry, broke from him and fled.