CHAPTER XXV.
In a small but richly-decorated room in Naples sat three gentlemen in the picturesque, the beautiful costume of the times. Two were mere youths compared with the other, and yet he was a man far on the sunny side of middle age. Before them was a table bearing upon it dried fruits and some wine; and many vases of fair flowers were placed upon the board and in different angles of the chamber. The expression on the countenance of each was somewhat grave, but it was more striking on that of the elder man, as his face and features were, even when at rest, of a playful turn, gay, frank, and beaming.
"I do not like this, my young friends," he said, in a very serious tone, "I do not like this at all," and he drank off another silver cupful of the wine.
"You seem to like it well, Seigneur do Vitry," said one of the young men--"that is to say, if you mean the wine; you have drunk more than I have ever seen you drink before."
"I have the drunkard's ever-ready excuse, De Terrail," answered De Vitry; "I drink to drive away care. But I did not mean the wine; it is good enough, I believe. What I meant was, I do not like this state of affairs here in Naples, and I asked you two boys to dine with me to talk with you about it. Why, I believe we three seated here are the only men left reasonable in this city--the only three Frenchmen, I should have said; but that will not do either, for one of us is not a Frenchman by birth; at all events, I may say the only three of the king's army."
"As for these Neapolitans, they are, I believe, all born mad, so there is no use taking them into the account at all. Now Lorenzo is reasonable. He is in love; it is the most sobering thing in the world. I am reasonable from perhaps somewhat the same cause; but as to you, De Terrail, I do not understand how you came to retain your senses when men with white beards lose theirs, unless it be something in your nature, for you are too perfect a knight not to be proud of your love, if you had one."
"Well, seigneur," replied Bayard, "it is not my place to find fault with my elders; my only business is to govern my men and my own conduct aright, but yet I cannot but say with you that I do not like this."
"And I as little as either," said Lorenzo; "his Majesty surely cannot know all that is taking place here. He cannot be aware that we are daily losing both the respect and affection of the people. Why, when first we arrived, they seemed almost ready to worship us, and now every man one meets is ready to lay his hand upon his dagger."
"Ay, that is natural and common in all countries," said De Vitry; "the common herd are always volatile, one day bowing down to their fellow-man as an idol, the next day trampling upon him as a dog. But the worst of it is, we have given them cause to change. We treat the men like dogs; we consider the women as harlots. We insult men's wives and their daughters, or do worse, and we kill the husbands and brothers, or fathers, if they show a regard for their own honour. Sometimes we get killed ourselves, it is true, and 'twere no pity if 'twas oftener, but for the thinning of the king's ranks, and there are few enough of us left, I can tell you. Then see, again, how we pillage and oppress the people? Why, I came suddenly yesterday upon a fellow of a sutler taking away a poor old man's fish without payment, and the old fisherman dancing out of his skin with anguish. I had the scoundrel tied up to the strappado, and made his back acquainted with the thongs; but what did that matter, when the same thing takes place every day unpunished."
"But what you say about their women is the worst," replied Bayard; "they are naturally a jealous people here in Naples, and we certainly do give them good cause for jealousy. We not only treat them as if we had conquered them, when, in truth, we have hardly struck a stroke or crouched a lance, but as if we had made them slaves."