CHAPTER XIII.
Milan had its attractions even for the gay court of France. It was a devout and dissolute city; and we know how jovially, in some countries and at some times, dissoluteness and devotion have contrived to jog on together. Pastime and penitence, pleasure and penance, alternated among the courtiers of Charles VIII. with very agreeable variety; and it has been whispered that the young king himself was not unwilling either to finger forbidden fruit, or to express contrition afterward. At all events, he wasted many precious days in the Lombard capital. Morning after morning, fresh detachments of his army were sent forward to Pavia, till that city might be considered in possession of his troops; but still the young king lingered, and it was not till nine days after the events we have recorded in the last two or three chapters that the main host of France took its way southward.
How passed the intermediate time with those we have left in the Villa de Rovera? It was very sweetly. We must not dwell upon it, because it was so sweet; but a few words will tell all. Lorenzo almost longed to remain an invalid, that there might be a fair excuse for Leonora's tending; and Leonora feared to see him recover health and strength too soon, lest the order to depart should hurry him away.
Strange tales are told of the effects of Italian poisons in those days, and doubtless much exaggeration mingles with all the accounts we have received, but certain it is, that, though the youth recovered steadily, each day gaining a little, yet his convalescence was slow, and the subtle bane of Buondoni's sword was more or less felt for many after days. Still no order to march arrived, but every day, about noon, the good Lord de Vitry rode over, well attended, from Pavia to inquire after the health of his young friend; and although it is certain that Leonora could have given him more minute accounts of Lorenzo's state, and the old Count de Rovera could have furnished him with juster and more scientific views of Lorenzo's progress towards recovery, it was always Bianca Maria he first asked for. He speedily became a great favorite with the old count nevertheless. There was something in his frank, soldier-like bearing that pleased, and something in his ever merry conversation that amused the old man, so that he began to wish the day far distant when the noble Lord of Vitry would come no more.
Bianca Maria was very happy too, and she gave the rein to happiness without fear. Neither she nor De Vitry ever dreamed that he was making love. She thought herself too young to be the object of passion, and he thought so too. He fancied he should like to have a daughter just like herself, without the slightest change in thought or look--he would not have had a word she said altered--he would not have parted with one ringlet from her head; and she pictured to herself how pleasant it would have been to have an elder brother just like De Vitry.
At the house of the contadino all went on favourably likewise. Antonio visited the place every day, till at length, one morning early, he walked forth with a sandaled friar, who passed round the wall of the podere with him, and mounted a mule which was held by a little peasant-boy. Some ten minutes after, a troop of twenty French lances rode slowly on towards Pavia, and the friar, by Antonio's intercession, was permitted to join himself to the band. The contadino and the contadino's wife were for once satisfied with the same thing.
At length, however, the eventful day arrived when the King of France commenced his march from Milan against Naples. Drum, and trumpet, and pennon, and banderol, and long lines of glittering lances, and gorgeous surcoats, and splendid suits of armour, passed along the road within sight of the Villa Rovera, and though no absolute order had arrived commanding Lorenzo to join his troop and assume the command which had been bestowed upon him, yet, as he gazed upon the passing host from the higher windows, he felt that duty required him to linger no longer, and that the next day, at the latest, he was bound to tear himself away from those who, in the short space of a few weeks, had become so dear to him. He felt sad; and yet there was something to a young and eager mind like his, in the inspiring sight of military array, which had its consolatory influence. He thought of acquiring glory and renown for Leonora's sake, and returning to her with bright fame and a glorious name, with a proud consciousness of courage and of skill in arms. "If we must part--" he said to himself.
If they were to part! That was the consideration most painful, for he had flattered himself every day with the hope that the promised letter of Ramiro d'Orco would arrive, giving him authority to escort his fair promised bride to join her father: and oh! how many enchanted scenes had Fancy fabricated out of the vague shadows of that expected journey! No letter had arrived; the army was on its march; he could delay no longer; and the bitterness of disappointment was added to the bitterness of anticipated separation.
The last troopers of the main host of France disappeared; and Leonora gazed in Lorenzo's eyes, knowing, divining what was passing in his heart, as they stood, together, with Bianca Maria gazing from the neighbouring window.
"You must go, Lorenzo," said the beautiful girl, "you must go, I know it. Fear not to speak the words; Leonora would not keep you from the path of fame and honour if she could. It will be very terrible, but still you must go. I had hoped, indeed--"
"See! see!" cried Bianca Maria: "there are more horsemen coming. It is the king himself and his court; I remember well the array; and there is Count Ludovic, on the monarch's left."
Leonora and her lover turned to the window again, and saw the royal train sweep on towards them. But suddenly the king drew in his rein just opposite the gates. He did not dismount; but a horseman dashed out from the escort, and rode into the court-yard of the villa.
"It is the order," said Lorenzo, in a low voice, "it is the order, and I must run down to receive it."
The two lovely girls followed him quickly; for theirs was an age when nature's impulses have not been curbed and disciplined, restrained and checked, either by the iron rules of a factitious state of society or the harder and more terrible shackles of experience. At the bottom of the great staircase he found the old Count of Rovera speaking with one of the king's officers, out of whose mouth he took the words of the monarch's message, saying, as soon as he saw Lorenzo, "His Majesty the King of France, my young cousin, desires your presence without. He has not time to dismount, this noble gentleman tells me, otherwise he would have honoured our poor house by his presence."
Lorenzo hurried away unbonneted, and the count, looking with a smile at his cousin and granddaughter, said gaily:
"Now would I wager this jewel against a fool's bauble that you girls would give your ears to hear the conference. If so, take the rich peaches Giovanozzo brought just now--one take them on the gold salver, and let the other carry out a cup of our best wine to refresh the monarch after his long ride."
But there is an innate modesty which requires no teaching of art, and Leonora answered:
"I pray you excuse me, sir; they are all men there without, and we should blush to obtrude ourselves upon the gaze of so many eyes."
As she spoke a warm glow came upon the face of Bianca Maria, but it was not her cousin's words that called it there. A shadow darkened the doorway, and the sound of a step well-known to the young girl's ear was heard, which brought the joyous blood from the heart to the cheek in a moment.
"I have stolen away," said De Vitry, "like a thief, and I have been a thief, too, sweet ladies, and my noble lord. Just before I set out from Pavia to meet the king, a courier came from Bologna; and, good faith, when I found out what he carried, I made free to rob him of his bags, not knowing who else might finger them. That letter for you, my lord count--that for you, Signora Leonora; and here is one also for Visconti, which I may as well trust to you also, very sure you will deliver it safely."
"And none for me?" asked Blanche Marie, with a faint smile.
"None--only a message," said De Vitry, while the others busied themselves with their letters they had received; and, as he spoke, he drew the fair young girl aside, adding, "I must deliver it quickly, for I must be back ere I am missed."
What he said to her in that low whisper, who shall tell? Her cheek turned pale, and then glowed crimson red, and her knees shook, and her lips quivered, so as to stop the words that struggled for utterance, and yet there was joy in her eyes. It was as if he had given her the key of some treasury in her own heart which overwhelmed her with the first sight of the riches within.
"A soldier's love, a soldier's hand, a noble name, an honourable name--that is all I have to offer," were the words of De Vitry. "I know I am nearly old enough to be your father; but if you don't mind that, I don't."
He paused a moment as if for an answer, while Blanche Marie stood still trembling and silent; and, with a shade upon his broad, frank brow, he was turning away, when she murmured:
"Stay! stay!" and, drawing the glove from her hand, she put it into his.
"I will carry it into the cannon's mouth," he said, hiding it in his scarf; and then he kissed her hand, and returned to the old count and her fair cousin. "Lady, I must go," he said, taking Leonora's gloved hand, and bending over it. "My lord the count, farewell. We shall all meet again soon, I hope; and, in the meantime, you shall hear no evil of De Vitry, unless some of those foul cannon shot carry off his head. Adieu! adieu!"
In the meantime, Lorenzo had hurried forth, and stood by the side of the king's horse. Charles gazed kindly at him, and inquired after his health, while Ludovic the Moor bent his eyes upon him, but without suffering the slightest shade of enmity to cross his face.
"How goes it with you, fair cousin?" asked the king: "think you that you are able to ride on with the army towards Naples in a day or two?"
"Quite able, sir," answered the young man; "to-morrow, if it should be your Majesty's pleasure."
"Pale--pale," said the monarch, who seemed to have been studying his countenance. "Is that with loss of blood, Lorenzo, or the venom of the sword?"
"I lost little blood, sire," answered the young man; "but the poison was very deadly, and required both skill and careful nursing to bring me through with life."
"Now curses upon the foul heart and foul mind," exclaimed the young king, "that first conceived so dastardly a wickedness as that of smearing a good honest sword-blade with a deadly drug."
The face of Ludovic the Moor turned somewhat white, and his lip curled.
"Your Majesty's curse," he said, "must go somewhat far back, and somewhat low down; for the art was invented long ago, and the man who invented it, if he is to be damned at all, is very well damned by this time."
"Well, then, my curse shall have greater extent, noble sir," replied the king, frowning; "I will add--and curses be upon every one who uses such dark treachery."
The regent did not reply, but there were very angry feelings in his heart; and it is probable that nothing but the knowledge that the dominions over which he ruled, and which he intended should soon be his own in pure possession, were absolutely at the mercy of the French king's soldiery, prevented him from seeking vengeance. Indeed, nothing but fear can account for a man so unscrupulous having endured the mortifications which Charles inflicted upon him during the French stay in Lombardy; but it must be remembered that not only were many of his towns and castles in possession of the French, and others without any preparation for resistance, but that his own person was every hour within reach of the French swords, and that, though not quite a prisoner in his own court, he might become so any moment, if he excited suspicion or gave offence to the young monarch. He endured in silence then, and treasured his vengeance for a future day.
An unpleasant pause succeeded; and then Charles, turning to Lorenzo, continued the conversation, saying, "So you think yourself quite ready to ride. Well, then, join us to-morrow at Pavia, Lorenzo. Methinks no one, however high his station, will venture to assail you when near our own person. Yet, as it is evident from what has already happened, that some one in this land would fain remove you to a better, you shall have a guard with you, and must not walk the streets of Pavia unattended. Where is De Vitry? We will give orders for a part of your troop in his company to join you here to-night."
"He has gone into the villa for a moment, sire," replied Lorenzo, "for the purpose, I believe, of bidding adieu to the good old count, as I presume your majesty marches on speedily."
"Nay, he will have plenty of time hereafter," said Charles; "I shall not leave Pavia for some days. I have matters to inquire into; but, in the mean time, I will give orders for the men to join you to-night; and methinks a score of French lances will be sufficient to protect you from any number of Buondonis who may be inclined or hired to assassinate you."
There was an insulting tone of superiority in the young king's voice and manner, which could not have been very sweet to the Regent Ludovic, but he seemed still to pay no attention to the monarch's words, gazing forward on the road without change of countenance, as if busy with his own thoughts.
"Ah! here comes De Vitry," said the young king. "Mount, mount, my lord marquis. Adieu, my fair cousin Lorenzo. I will give the orders;" and, thus saying, he rode on.
Lorenzo saw the train depart and pass away, receiving many a good-natured greeting from old friends in the king's suite as it filed off along the road. When he returned to the vestibule of the villa with a somewhat gloomy heart, he found the old Count of Rovera, with the two young girl's, still there and apparently in earnest conversation; but Leonora exclaimed, as soon as she saw him, "When must you go, Lorenzo?"
"To-morrow," said the young man sadly.
"Oh, then you will have plenty of time," exclaimed Blanche Marie, addressing her beautiful cousin.
"To do what?" asked Lorenzo.
"To get ready to go with you," answered Leonora, "if you will be troubled with such a companion. Here is a letter for you from my father which will probably explain all. I have had another from him, telling me to come on with you, and join him at Bologna, if you have a sufficient train to render our journey secure; but he says there is little or no danger by the way."
The old Count of Rovera shook his head with a disapproving look, murmuring, "Mighty great danger on the way, I think. On my life, I believe Ramiro is mad; but I must admonish the youth strictly before he goes, and take care that she has plenty of women about her."