"Father, I do not doubt you," said Lorenzo, ceasing from his meal before more than one mouthful had been tasted. "You would not deceive me, I am sure; but you cannot tell what I feel--you cannot comprehend what I endure, and shall endure till I see her again--till I can clasp her to my heart, and, after she has escaped such a peril, thank God, with her, for her preservation. In your blessed exemption from the passions as well as the cares of secular life, you cannot even imagine the eager, the burning desire I feel to see her, to touch her hand, to assure myself by every sense that she is safe--that she is mine. Could you conceive it, you would find or force a way to bring me to her presence ere I depart for France."
"My son, you are mistaken," said the prior, in a tone of solemn, even melancholy earnestness. "I can conceive the whole. God help us, poor sinful mortals that we are. When we renounce the world we renounce its indulgences; but can we, do we, renounce its passions? How many a heart beneath the cowl--ay, beneath the mitre--thrills with all the warmest impulses of man's nature! How many--how terrible are the struggles, not to subdue the unsubduable passions, but to curb and regulate them; to bring them into subjection to an ever-present sense of duty; to chasten, not to kill the most fiery portion of our immortal essence! My son, you are mistaken; I can conceive your feelings--nay, I can feel with you and for you. God forbid that, as some do, I should say these impulses, these sentiments, these sensations are unconquerable, and therefore must be indulged. On such principles let the Borgias act. But I say that we--even we churchmen--must tolerate their existence in our hearts while we refrain from their indulgence, and that thereby we retain that sympathy with our fellow-mortals which best enables us to counsel them aright under all temptations. I will do my best for you, and, if it be possible, you shall see your Leonora for a time. When must you go hence?"
"I should set out by sun-down, father," replied Lorenzo; "the King of France must make a hasty march. Would to Heaven indeed it had been hastier, for the news we have is bad."
"Can you not remain behind?" said the monk; "you are an Italian, and not his subject, and it might serve many an excellent purpose if you could tarry here even for a few days."
"It cannot be, father," answered the young man; "were I to follow my own will, I would remain for ever by Leonora's side, but I am bound to King Charles by every tie of gratitude and honour. Those, indeed, I fear me, I might break in any common circumstance, and trust the king would pardon me upon the excuse of love; but, father, this is a moment when I dare not, for my honour, be absent from his force. There are dangers before and all around him. A battle must be fought ere we can cut our way to France. His army is small enough, and even one weak hand may turn the chance for or against him. I had hoped indeed, and I will own it frankly, that my beloved girl, with her father's full sanction to our union, which she has, would have consented to be mine by a hasty marriage, and go with me to France; but, alas! I fear----"
"My son, my son," exclaimed the monk, in a reproachful tone, "you would not surely dream of taking her into such scenes of danger as you speak of: nay, that is selfish."
"Is she not in greater danger here in Tuscany?" asked Lorenzo.
"She is in none, I trust," replied the prior. "It was imprudent, beyond doubt, to come in such times as these to a defenceless villa; but in Florence she will be safe as any one can be where wrong and rapine rage as here in Italy. But what you wish is quite impossible. If you have duties that must take you hence, she has duties also that must bind her here. I will keep my promise with you; but you must give up vain wishes and purposes that cannot be executed. She herself will tell you that it is impossible. Stay a moment; I must ask some questions."
The prior rose and left the room. He did not close the door behind him, and Lorenzo heard him give orders to some one without to go up to the belfry and ascertain if anything could still be seen of the party who had burned the villa. That done, he rejoined his young guest, but did not renew the conversation, merely pressing him to eat. In a few moments, a good fat monk rolled into the room, and announced that the party of the Borgias were still in sight.
"They have halted, and seem regaling themselves in the gardens of the Villa Morone," he said; "but I see--at least I think I see, and so does Brother Luigi--that there are movements taking place about the gates of the city, and if they stay much longer the Signoria will most likely send out troops to drive them hence."