And now, with his beaming eye no longer glowing with gaiety, but dark and thoughtful, came the Page Guiseppo; and side by side with the damsel Rosalind he knelt and did homage to his Lord. But why tell of Guiseppo and Rosalind—Is not the story of their fortunes found in the Historie of the Page and the Damsel?
The Duke turned to the vast multitude. He raised his sword on high.
“Witness, ye gallant knights, witness, ye fair dames, I now swear upon the hilt of my sword, that the morrow’s sun shall behold me and my followers bound for Palestine, there to fight for the Holy Sepulchre. And so help me God and St. George!”
And there stood Adrian, with his ducal robe of purple thrown back from his shoulders, his right hand pressing his sword hilt to his lip, his left arm raised to the heavens, while his eyes flashed with all the enthusiasm of his soul.
The cry ran like a lightning flash through the temple, every voice was for Palestine, every tongue shouted—“on—on to the rescue—God for the Holy Sepulchre!”
Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Long-sword raised his sword on high, the Ladye Annabel, fired by the holy feeling of the moment, lifted the cross of ebony depending from her neck to her lips, as a thunder-shout arose from the multitude, and while all was exultation and joy, bold Robin the stout yeoman flung the broad banner of the Duke to the air, and the bright sunbeams shining upon the azure folds gilded with dazzling light the blazonry of gold, and every eye beheld the armorial bearings of the Lord of Florence, with the words in letters of gold—
“GRASP BOLDLY, AND BRAVELY STRIKE!”
“It is past, the dark and fearful night,” again repeated Adrian, as he gazed over this scene of wild enthusiasm; “Lo! the morning cometh!”
As he spoke the cathedral was suddenly darkened, a thick mist filled the Church, and one man could scarce distinguish the form of another by his side.
A wild, hollow laugh sounded to the very roof of the cathedral, it rung upon the senses of the vast multitude, and was echoed from every aisle of the solemn temple.