"Come, then, under the walls," answered the other; and, leading the way, he conducted his friend through several of the low and narrow streets which abutted upon the defences, hardly meeting any one but a labourer and an old woman or two in miserable rags, seeking amongst the piles of rubbish, thrown out here and there in the open spaces between the walls and the houses, for anything that poverty could make valuable. At length they were obliged to turn into one of the larger streets; but ten steps therein brought them to a narrow doorway under one of the arcades, where they entered and mounted a long dirty stair. At the first landing was a door on the left, through which they passed into a little ante-room, where at a table was seated a young man dressed as a servant, but without badge or cognizance, as was usual with the domestics of great families at that period. If one might judge from his face, which was ugly enough to be funny, and funny enough to be beautiful--I do not love paradoxes, but I am driven into one--he was not a personage very much given to grave contemplations. Nevertheless, on the present occasion he was so seriously occupied with the piece of work he had in hand, that for an instant he did not observe the entrance of the two gentlemen we have mentioned. That piece of work was indeed a very important and elaborate one, at least in his opinion--namely, the cutting out, in small blocks of soft wood, a variety of grotesque heads, in which his inventive genius displayed itself by producing noses such as never were seen on any human countenance, eyes of every degree of obliquity, and chins, some retreating, as if afraid of the portentous nasal organ which overshadowed them, and some immeasurably protruded, as if to domineer over the mouth that yawned above. In truth he showed no small skill in sculpture, although his genius had taken rather an eccentric turn; and it was evident that he enjoyed his own performance very much, for his first salutation to his master was a loud laugh, as he contemplated the extraordinary physiognomy he had just carved. Then, awakening to the more sober realities of life, he started up, laying down the knife and wood upon the table, and saying, with a low bow, "Welcome to Padua, noble sir; better late than never; nothing's lost that is not at the bottom of the sea. It is a long lane that has never a turning. A man cannot be too late who has time enough."
"Spare your proverbs, good Master Jute," replied his master, the stranger who had been waiting on the bridge; "I find that, notwithstanding all your promises of reformation and sobriety, you have been setting the whole town in an uproar."
"Not so, indeed, my noble lord; with the best intentions I have not had time to get through more than the French quarter. I hurried here as fast as possible, both to do your will and my own, seeing that I have been pent up like a brawn in a stye for the last three months; but still I have not had time enough. As for promises, although, like pie-crusts, they are made to be broken, and he who vows much performs little, yet, from a silly fondness for a whole skin and clear conscience, I never break mine; and I beseech your lordship to recollect that I only promised to behave well by the shores of Lake Leman."
"Well, well, we will talk more of that hereafter," replied his lord, following the other gentleman towards the inner room. "I find you have obeyed my injunction of not mentioning my name. See that you attend to it still. And now go and order them to bring my supper up, for I have ridden hard and fasted long."
The man made a low bow, and obeyed, while the two gentlemen proceeded into the neighbouring chamber, and the traveller, casting himself into a seat, said, with a sigh, the source of which might be difficult to discover, "So, here I am, once more in Padua."
CHAPTER II.
The room was a little dingy room lined with black oak, carved into panels, with some degree of taste and ornament, the house having formerly belonged to higher personages than those who possessed it at the time; for Padua, even then, like all persons, places, and things, on the face of the earth, had seen its mutations; and Patavium had undergone, since the days of Livy, a thousand different changes, which had rendered fashionable parts of the city unfashionable, turned the houses of nobles into the residences of boors, converted Pagan temples into Christian churches, and, with greater propriety, had converted amphitheatres into slaughter-houses. Amongst later alterations, the house which had formerly been inhabited by one of the mercenary followers of Angelo, had descended to the station of an inn, at first well frequented and in high repute, but gradually sinking lower and lower, till it had now become a sort of lodging-house in ordinary for merchants who visited the town of Padua, and the poorer class of students, on their first arrival. The chamber, however, was lofty; the window which looked into the court, large, and opening all the way down the centre, which was then rare; and the coolness so desirable at that burning season was to be obtained there, which could not be found in many a larger and finer apartment in the city. In this room, with several flasks of fine wine before them, were seated, about half an hour after sunset, John, Earl of Gowrie, and his friend Sir John Hume. There were two wax tapers on the table, some plates of beautiful fruit, perfuming the whole air, and some cakes of a sweet kind of bread, for which Padua was then famous. The rays of the candles were quickly lost in the dark wainscoting around, but they threw sufficient light upon the table and its white cloth, and showed fully the expressions of the two young men's countenances. Both were still gay, and laugh and jest had gone on between them during the meal; but every now and then a look of deep thoughtfulness, almost amounting to melancholy, crossed the face of the earl, passing away again like the shadow of a flying cloud cast momentarily on a fine landscape. They had been speaking of many things while the servant of the earl and some of the people of the inn had been coming and going. The period of Lord Gowrie's sojourn at Padua as a scholar had been referred to, and the high academic honour which had been conferred upon him somewhat more than a year before, by his election to the office of rector, had been commented upon by Hume, who laughingly said, "If I had puzzled my dull brains for seven years, I never could have obtained or merited such a distinction, John."
It was one of Lord Gowrie's graver moments when his friend made this observation, and he replied gloomily, "Those who eat the fruit early, Hume, are left with bare boughs in the autumn. I was elected Lord Provost of Perth before I was fourteen; I fought in a lost battle at fifteen; and I was rector of this university before I was twenty. Blighted hopes, or early death, we often find the fate of those who taste the bitter stream of life so soon."
"Nonsense," replied his friend; "have you studied the sublime art of astrology to so little purpose? It is but that you are born under a fortunate star, and will go on in honour and success until the end."
"Small success at the field of Down," replied the earl; "for a more disastrous rout never befel brave men than there overtook Athol and Montrose."