“You must follow me,” was my only answer.
“It is in vain,” rejoins the monarch, “that you are disguised; it is in vain that you endeavour to assume a feigned voice: I know you well, I am fully assured that you are Lovzinski: ah, who would have said so ten years since? You would then have lost your life, on condition of preserving that of your friend.”
His majesty now ceases to speak; we advance some time, in profound silence, which he again breaking, exclaims. “I am overcome with fatigue—if you wish to carry me alive, permit me to repose myself for a single moment.”
(To be continued.)
ANECDOTE OF CÆSARE ARETHUSI.
Cæsare Arethusi, was invited by the duke of Ferrara, to visit his court, and received there with extraordinary respect. That prince sat to him for his portrait, admired the performance highly, gave him evident proofs not only of his favour, but of his friendship and esteem; and having, at last, concluded that his generous treatment must inevitably have secured his gratitude (if not his affection) he freely acquainted him with his real inducement for inviting him to Ferrara. Confiding in the integrity of the painter, he told him there was a lady in the city whose portrait he wished to possess; but that it was to be procured in a manner so secret, as neither to be suspected by the lady herself, nor any of her friends. He promised an immense reward to Arethusi, if he was successful and retentive; he threatened him with the utmost severity of his resentment, if ever he suffered the secret to transpire.
The artist watched a proper opportunity to sketch the likeness of the lady, unnoticed by any; and having shewn it to the duke, he seemed exceedingly struck with the resemblance, as well as the graceful air of the figure, and ordered Arethusi to paint a portrait from that sketch, as delicately as he possibly could, but, above all things, recommended it to him, to keep it from every eye except his own.
When the picture was finished, the painter himself beheld it with admiration, and thought it would be injurious to his fame to conceal from the world, a performance which he accounted perfect; and through an excess of pride and vanity shewed it privately to several of his friends, who could not avoid commending the work, while they detested the folly and ingratitude of the artist.
The secret thus divulged, circulated expeditiously; it soon reached the ears of the lady, and her family, who were exceedingly irritated; and the duke appeared so highly enraged at the treachery of Arethusi, that he was almost provoked to put him to death; but he only banished him for ever from his dominions.