Her way was bent toward an obscure neighborhood in the immediate vicinity of the cathedral; and in a short time she reached the house in which Dame Margaretha, Antonio’s mother, dwelt. She knocked gently at the door, which was shortly opened by the old woman, who imagined it was her son that sought admittance; for, though in the service of the Count of Arestino, Antonio was often kept abroad late by the various machinations in which he had been engaged, and it was by no means unusual for him to seek his mother’s dwelling at all hours.
Margaretha, who appeared in a loose wrapper hastily thrown on, held a lamp in her hand; and when its rays streamed not on the countenance of her son, but showed the form of a cavalier handsomely appareled, she started back in mingled astonishment and fear. A second glance, however, enabled her to recognize the Lady Nisida; and an exclamation of wonder escaped her lips. Nisida entered the house, closed the door behind her, and motioned Dame Margaretha to lead the way into the nearest apartment. The old woman obeyed tremblingly; for she feared that the lady’s visit boded no good; and this apprehension on her part was not only enhanced by her own knowledge of all Antonio’s treachery toward Count Francisco, but also by the imperious manner, determined looks, and strange disguise of her visitress. But Margaretha’s terror speedily gave way to indescribable astonishment when Nisida suddenly addressed her in a language which not for many, many years, had the old woman heard flow from that delicious mouth!
“Margaretha,” said Nisida, “you must prepare to accompany me forthwith! Be not surprised to hear me thus capable of rendering myself intelligible by means of an organ on which a seal was so long placed. A marvelous cure has been accomplished in respect to me, during my absence from Florence. But you must prepare to accompany me, I say; your son Antonio——”
“My son!” ejaculated the woman, now again trembling from head to foot, and surveying Nisida’s countenance in a manner denoting the acutest suspense.
“Your son is wounded—mortally wounded in a street skirmish——”
“Wounded!” shrieked Margaretha. “Oh, dear lady—tell me all—tell me the worst! What has happened to my unfortunate son? He is dead—he is dead! Your manner convinces me that hope is past!”
And she wrung her hands bitterly, while tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks.
“No, he is not dead, Margaretha!” exclaimed Nisida; “but he is dying—and he implored me, by everything I deemed sacred, to hasten thither and fetch you to him, that he may receive your blessing and close his eyes in peace.”
“In peace!” repeated the old woman bitterly: then, to herself she said, “Donna Nisida suspects not his perfidy—knows not all his wickedness.”
“Delay not,” urged the lady, perceiving what was passing in her mind. “You are well aware that my brother, who, alas! has disappeared most mysteriously, dismissed Antonio abruptly from his service many months ago; but, whatever were the cause, it is forgotten, at least by me. So tarry not, but prepare to accompany me.”