[CHAPTER III.]
THE KNIGHT LIONARDO SALVIATI.
Essendo di fortuna e d'ingegno meno che mediocre, mi sento non dimanco avere dalla natura un bene particolare ed egregio, nel quale io mi sento tanto superiore a molti, quanto quasi di ogni uomo in tutte le altre cose mi conosco più basso. Questa è una cotal mirabile inclinazione, ed una come natural conoscenza ch'io ho nella amicizia.... Io sono a questa parte quasi rapito dallo Dio del mio ingegno.
Salviati, Dialogo dell' Amicizia.
Although I am less than mediocre both in fortune and talents, yet I feel that nature has gifted me with a particular and lofty blessing, in which I feel myself so much superior to others, as I know myself in almost everything else inferior to all other men. This is a wonderful inclination, and natural knowledge which I have in friendship.... I feel in this respect almost exalted by the god of my genius....
Salviati, Dialogue on Friendship.
As poets sometimes describe a pensive maiden straying by the margin of a brook, plucking the leaves from a rose, scattering them to the mercy of the current, and watching the wave that carries them away, so Isabella, with her cheek resting on her hand, her eyes closed, mused upon the dear remembrances borne down upon the stream of time. Where was her innocence? Where her youthful affections? Where the serene purity of her mind? The tree of life, that once appeared so fresh with perpetual verdure, now how horribly bare! And the few leaves that remain, rustle drily, and are ready to fall with the slightest wind that blows. Of Cosimo's daughters, she alone is left; Mary died at seventeen for love; Lucretia, perhaps through the same cause, disappeared from the world at twenty-one. Love had been a star of evil auspice for the women of the Medici family! The dear boy, Don Garcia, had abandoned her, and she could never think of him without her imagination depicting the angelic face, that wished to speak to her but could not, and tried to sign to her with his head, while his hair, dripping with blood, stained his beautiful face. God knows how this thought pierced her heart! For the report of the domestic tragedy had reached her ears, but her frightened soul shrank in horror at believing it true. Her father, Cosimo, whom, however severe or cruel towards his other children, she had found kind, was still young when he left this world, and although in dying he left her, as manifest tokens of his love, seven thousand dollars, a palace, three thousand dollars upon the Pisan estates, gardens and houses in Florence, and jewels worth a treasure, all this abundance of wealth had not served to procure her one friend in whom to confide, or from whom to seek counsel.
She could not depend upon Cardinal Ferdinando, as he had left his home at an early age, and, obliged to live in Rome, had there placed his heart and thoughts; or if his mind ever turned towards his home, it was through pride, or through desire of royalty, for which he was so eager that, in process of time, being exalted to the Tuscan throne, he took for coat of arms the King of the bees, with the motto: Majestate tantum. Besides which, she had but little reason to consider him kindly-disposed towards her, as she had, in times past, rather favored than opposed the intrigue of Don Francesco with Bianca; but perceiving that this passion was taking deep root, and might become a source of great trouble, she had endeavored to repair her fault, by thwarting it to the utmost of her power, which only excited against her the bitter hatred of Francesco and the vengeance of Bianca, and did not succeed, on the other hand, in restoring to her the friendship of Cardinal Ferdinando, much less that of Queen Giovanna, her sister-in-law.
Giovanna, a very pious woman, was still a woman wounded in her dearest affections as wife and mother, and in the pride of her noble lineage, seeing a Venetian adventuress preferred to her, the daughter of an Emperor, and by birth the Queen of Hungary and Bohemia. This grief, which continually tormented her mind and preyed upon her health, at last rendered her so eager for revenge in any form, that, happening one evening, in crossing the bridge of the Santa Trinità, to meet Bianca, she ordered the carriage to stop, and commanded her guards to throw her enemy into the Arno; and if it had not been for Count Eliodoro Bastigli, a very worthy nobleman, who begged her to consider how unbecoming such an act would be to a Queen and a Christian, adding also that she should leave her cause to God, and offer her sorrows as an expiation for her sins, that would have been the last day of Bianca's life, since the guards, not very scrupulous about such matters, were on the point of laying violent hands upon her. Still this poor Giovanna could not so entirely conquer herself as not to hate mortally every one who had contributed to alienate her husband from her; among these, she suspected, and not unjustly, that Isabella stood first; and for this reason, and also that they were of natures, of desires, habits, and pursuits, not only different, but entirely incompatible with each other, there was no evil that she did not wish her; and although she repented and confessed her ill-will, nevertheless, weak human nature prevailing in her, she hated her worse than before.
As to Don Pietro, hardened to every kind of vice, forgetful not only of princely dignity, but even of what belonged to a man, Isabella could place as little reliance upon him. Alas! in so much sorrow, she found herself alone! No one could aid her with counsel or help. Bitter thoughts now took possession of her, and these thoughts left their trace in a furrow upon her brow and a wound in her heart, such as God alone could heal, or death steep in oblivion.
Lelio, opening the door of the saloon, announced:
"The illustrious knight, Lionardo Salviati, desires to see your Ladyship."