CHAPTER IX.
When Lorenzo awoke--and his sleep was not of such long duration as fully to outlive the darkness--he found more than one person watching him. Close by his side sat Ramiro d'Orco, and near the foot of his bed the lamplight fell upon the well-known face of his faithful follower, Antonio. He felt faint and somewhat confused, and he had a throbbing of the brow and temples, which told him he was ill; but for some moments he remembered nothing of the events which had taken place the night before.
"How feel you, my young friend?" asked Ramiro, in a far more gracious tone than he commonly used; "yet speak low and carefully, for, though the antidote has overwrought the poison, you must long be watchful of your health, and make no exertion."
"You are very kind, Signor Ramiro," replied the young man. "I believe I was wounded last night, and that the blade was poisoned--yes, it was so, and I owe you my life."
"I speak not of that, Lorenzo," replied Ramiro; "I am right glad I was here, and could wish much that I could remain to watch you in your convalescence, for a relapse might be fatal; but I will trust you to hands more delicate, if not so skilful as my own. Men make bad nurses; women are the fit attendants for a sick room, and your pretty little cousin, Bianca Maria--as gentle and sweet as an angel--and my child Leonora, whom you know, shall be your companions. I will charge them both to watch you at all moments, and, under their tender care, I warrant you will soon recover. I myself must ride hence ere noon, for I must be in Rome ere ten days are over. Ere that you will be quite well; and should it be needful that Leonora should follow me, I will trust to your noble care to bring her on through this distracted country. I know you will reverence her youth and innocence for her father's sake, who has done all he could for you in a moment of great peril."
Lorenzo's heart beat with joy at the mere thought. I would have said thrilled, but, unhappily, the misuse of good words by vulgar and ignorant men banishes them, in process of time, from the dictionary. The multitude is too strong for individual worth, and prevails.
"On my honour and my soul," replied Lorenzo, "I will guard her with all veneration and love, as if she were some sacred shrine committed to my charge."
A slight irrepressible sneer curled Ramiro's lip, for all enthusiasms are contemptible to worldly men; but he was well learned in fine words and phrases, and had sentiments enough by rote.
"The mind of a pure girl," he said, "is indeed as a saint in a shrine. Woe be to him who desecrates it. We are accustomed to think of such things too lightly in this land; but you have had foreign education amongst the chivalrous lords of France, in whom honour is an instinct, and I will fearlessly trust you to guard her on her journey through the troubled country across which she will have to pass."
"You may do so confidently, signor," replied Lorenzo, in a bold tone; but then he seemed to hesitate; and raising himself on his arm, after a moment's thought, he added, "I hope, my lord, you will not consider that I violate the trust reposed in me, if perchance I should, in all honour, plead my cause with her by the way. Already I love her with an honourable and yet a passionate love, and I must win her for my wife if she is to be won. We are both very young, it is too true; but that only gives me the more time to gain her, if you do not oppose. As for myself, I know I shall never change, and I would lose neither time nor opportunity in wooing her affections in return. I fear me, indeed," he added, "that I could not resist the occasion, were she to go forward under my guard, and therefore I speak so plainly thus early."
He paused a moment, and then continued, with an instinctive appreciation of the character of him to whom he spoke, which all Ramiro's apparent disinterested kindness had not been able to affect:
"What dower she may have, I know not, neither do I care. I have enough for both, and allied as I am to more than one royal house, were I ambitious--and for her sake I may become so--I could carve me a path which would open out to me and mine high honours and advantages, unless I be a coward or a fool."
"Well, well, good youth, we will talk more of this another time," replied Ramiro d'Orco; "you have done nobly and honestly to speak of it, and it will only make me trust you more implicitly. Coward you are none, as you have shown this night, and fool you certainly are not. You may want the guidance of some experience, and if you be willing to listen to the counsel of one who has seen more of life than you, I will show you how to turn your great advantages to good account. It might not be too vast a scope of fancy to think of a Visconti once more seated in the chair of Milan. But I have news for you, one of your comrades in arms has arrived during the night, warned, it would seem, that some harm was intended you."
"Who is he?" asked Lorenzo eagerly.
"Young Pierre de Terrail," answered Ramiro. "He seems a noble youth, and was much grieved to hear that you were suffering. He has brought some twenty men with him, whom we have lodged commodiously; but I would not suffer him to come up while you were sleeping, as undisturbed repose was most necessary to your recovery."
Lorenzo expressed a strong wish to see his young comrade; and in a few minutes he, so celebrated afterwards as the Chevalier Bayard, was introduced. He was at this time a youth of about eighteen years of age, who at first sight appeared but slightly made, and formed more for activity than strength. Closer observation, however, showed in the broad shoulders and open chest, the thin flank, and long, powerful limbs, the promise of that hardy vigour which he afterwards displayed.
Lorenzo held out his hand to him with a warm smile, saying, "Welcome, welcome, De Terrail! You find me here fit for nothing, while there you are still in your armour, as a reproach to me, I suppose, for not being ready to march."
"Not so, not so, Visconti," said the young hero. "I did not know how soon you might wake, or how soon I might have occasion to go on to Pavia, and therefore I sat me down and slept in my armour, like a lobster in his shell. But how feel you now? Is the venom wholly subdued?"
"Yes, thanks to this noble lord," replied Lorenzo.
"Nevertheless," rejoined Ramiro, "you will need several days' repose before you can venture to mount your horse. Any agitation of the blood might prove fatal."
"Why, he has just been named by the king to the command of a troop in our band," answered De Terrail; "but we must manage that for you, Visconti. We will take it turn and turn about to order your company for you till you are well."
"Nay, I do not intend to have that troop," replied his young friend. "It is yours of right, Terrail. You entered full three months before me; and I will not consent to be put over your head."
"I will have none of it," answered the young Bayard. "It is the king's own will, Visconti; and we must obey without grumbling. Besides, do you think I will rob a man of his post while he is suffering on my account?"
"How am I suffering on your account?" asked Visconti. "What had you to do with my wound?"
"Do you not know that I struck this big fellow in the castle court at Milan because he was insolent?" said Bayard. "He vowed he would kill me before the week was out, and, depend upon it, he mistook you for me. He knew I was coming hither, and thought I was coming alone; for at first the king ordered me to carry you the news of your nomination, but he afterwards changed his mind, and sent it by the trumpet who was going to Pavia. He might not have killed me as easily as he thought; but he met a still worse playfellow in you, for you killed him instead. You were always exceedingly skilful with rapier and dagger, though I think I am your equal with the lance."
"O! superior far," answered Lorenzo. "So he is dead, is he? I have but a confused notion of all that took place last night. I only know that he attacked me like a wild beast, and I had not even time to draw my dagger."
"Ay! dead enough," replied De Terrail. "I had a look at him as he lies below in the hall, and a more fell visage I never saw on a corpse. Your sword went clear through him, from the right side to the left; and you only gave him what he well merited--the murderous scoundrel, to poison his weapons!"
"That is a practice which sometimes must be had resort to, when men serve great princes," observed Ramiro, with a quiet smile, "but in a private quarrel it is base."
"Ay, base enough any way," replied the young Bayard. "However, you have rid me of an enemy and the world of an assassin, Lorenzo, and I hope you will not suffer long. But there, the day is coming up in the east, and I must on to Pavia presently. I had orders last night to ride early this morning and mark out our quarters; but when your good fellow there gave us news of your danger, I came on, by De Vitry's order, to see if we could defend you."
"If you will wait but half an hour, and break your fast with us in the hall," said Ramiro d'Orco, "I will ride on with you, and take advantage of the escort of your men-at-arms, Signor de Terrail."
"Willingly," answered the other; "some breakfast were no bad thing; for, good faith! we supped lightly last night. But I will go and see that all is ready for departure when we have done our meal."
He quitted the room, and Ramiro d'Orco soon after followed, promising to see his patient again before he departed for the South.
Left alone with his young lord, Antonio drew nearer, and, bending down his head, said, "I wonder, signor, what charm you have used upon the Signor d'Orco to make his hard iron as soft as soap. Why, he is the picture of tenderness--Mercy weeping over the guilt of sinners--a lineal descendant from the good Samaritan, or of that gentleman from whom the Frangipani are descended, or some other of the charitable heroes of antiquity. He was never known to shed a tear that was not produced by something that tickled his nose, or to laugh except when he saw the grimaces of a man broken on the wheel."
"Hush, hush!" said Lorenzo; "to me he has been very kind, and I must judge of people as I find them."
"Ay, sir, judge when you know them well," answered Antonio. "Your pardon, excellent lord; but hear a word or two more. He who was more than a father to you, placed me near you to serve you, not only with my limbs, but with my tongue--in the way of counsel, I mean. This man has benefited you. Be grateful to him; but be not the less on your guard. Give him no power over you, lest he should abuse it. The smallest secret in the keeping of a wicked man is a sword over the head of him who trusted him. If we lock up our own money, how much more should we lock up our thoughts. I have seen a mountebank's pig walk upon his hind legs; but I never saw one that could do it long at a time. If you wait and watch, cunning will always show itself in its true colours. The face of a man's nature is always too big for any mask he can buy, and some feature will always be uncovered by which you can know the man. No one can cover his whole person with a veil; and if you cannot judge by the face, you can find him out by the feet."
"Well, well," said Lorenzo, somewhat impatiently; "open that window wide, Antonio. My head aches, and I feel half suffocated. Then just smooth my bed, and put out that winking lamp. I should not have my chamber look like the room of an hospital."
Quick to comprehend, Antonio did not only what Lorenzo ordered, but much more, and set himself busily to give an air of trim neatness to the apartment, removing his master's bloody clothing which was lying on the ground, and placing on a stool clean linen and a new suit, but taking care to move neither the sword nor the arms, which had been cast negligently on the table. There was something picturesque in their arrangement that suited his fancy, and he let them remain. But in the course of his perquisitions he came to the silver flagon which had been brought by the page, and, after smelling to it, he asked, "Why, what is this?"
"Nay, I only know that it kept up my strength when I felt as if each moment I should die," answered Lorenzo. "I do not think even the antidote he applied to my arm would have been sufficient to save me but for its aid; the poison was so potent."
"Doubtless," replied Antonio; "but it gives me a secret how to accelerate your cure, my good lord--A wet napkin round his head will take off the head-ache, at all events," he muttered to himself; "but not just yet. Better let these men depart first.
"Now, Antonio, sit down and tell me all that has befallen since I sent you to Milan," said Lorenzo. "Did you find the small picture of my mother where old Beatrice told me it would be found?"
"Yes, my lord; but the case was much broken," replied Antonio. "Here it is."
As he spoke, he produced one of those miniature portraits which sometimes even the most celebrated artists of the day were pleased to paint, and handed it to Lorenzo. It was fixed in an embossed case of gilded brass; but as the man had said, the back of the case had been apparently forced sharply open, so as to break the spring lock and one of the hinges.
Lorenzo took it, and, raising himself on his elbow, gazed at the features of a very lovely woman which the picture represented.
"And this was my mother!" he murmured, after looking at it for a long time; and then he added, in a still lower tone, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!"
He then turned the portrait, drew off the dilapidated back of the case, and read some words which were written round a small oval box forming part of the frame, but concealed by the case when it was closed.
"A cure for the ills of life!" were the words; and, lifting the lid of the box, he beheld several small papers, containing some substance within them, discoloured by age.
"Know you what these are?" he asked of Antonio.
"No, my lord," replied the man; "poison, I suppose, as death is 'the only cure for all the ills of life.'"
"Right!" replied Lorenzo, musing, "right! He told me she had only escaped dishonour by death."
"Ay, my good young lord, I can tell you more of it," answered Antonio. "You were a baby then; but I am well-nigh fifteen years older, and I remember it all right well. I was then in Milan, and----"
He had not time to finish the sentence ere Ramiro d'Orco entered the room, followed by Bianca Maria and Leonora. The expression of the countenance of each of the two girls was somewhat significant of their characters, Blanche Marie gazed, shrinking and timid, round the room, as if she expected to behold some ghastly spectacle, till her eyes lighted upon Lorenzo, and then a glad smile spread over her whole face. Leonora looked straight on, her eyes fixing upon her wounded lover at once, as if divining rather than seeing where he lay; and, walking straight to his bedside, she took the chair nearest, as if of right.
"I have brought you two nurses, Lorenzo," said Ramiro; "they will give their whole care to you, and you will soon be well. But you must promise me, in honour of the skill which has saved your life, that you will not hazard it by attempting any exercise for several days."
"I will not," answered Lorenzo, "unless the king's orders especially require my service. Of course if they do, his orders must be obeyed."
"Certainly, certainly," replied the other; "but those orders will not come. He shall hear how near death you have been, and of course will be considerate. But now farewell. I must go join Monsieur de Terrail. You shall hear from me, when I reach Bologna, concerning what was spoken of. Till then, I leave you in kind and tender hands."
Thus saying, he bade him adieu and left him; and Antonio followed, judging perhaps that Lorenzo's two fair companions would afford attendance enough.