“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean he is a Livonian or a native of Courland, I do not know exactly which. But he is one of the emperor’s subjects, and cannot trifle with his orders, which obliged him to leave Florence suddenly, where he was, and now forces him to keep swiftly on his way.”
The conversation took another turn, of which Fleurange did not hear a word. As soon as she had an excuse for leaving her cousins, she returned to her chamber, where she took a small note-book from her pocket, and carefully inscribed therein the name of Count George de Walden.
[160] The use of the second person singular, indicative of familiarity in most European languages, has not been retained in this translation.
THE MARTYRDOM OF ST. AGNES.
“Sancta Agnes! ora pro nobis.”
Calm she stood,
An ivory statue, yet instinct with life,
So stately was that gently breathing form
Of grace and dignity so perfect, yet
With all youth’s pliant softness.
On her brow,
White as the ocean pearl when first the waves
Complaining cast their treasure on the shore,
Was stamped the seal of that creating hand
Whose spirit dwelt within that temple rare,
Her holy virgin heart; and from her eyes,
Soul-lit, beamed forth the splendor and the depth
Of that informing mind whose lights they were,
Until you heeded not their violet hues,
Their lashes long, or nobly arching brows.
Her flossy hair was colored like the sun,
Her cheeks were opal-tinted, like the hues
Of rosy sunset mingled with the pure
Soft paly whiteness of the maiden moon.
Her mouth was a pomegranate-flower, with all
Its crimson sweetness, and her rounded chin,
Love’s finger touching, had impressed therein
A lovely dimple, thus completing well
The virgin beauty of that angel face.
A young and princely Roman knight drew near,
And bent upon the noble maid his glance,
Wherein the fire of earthly passion blazed,
Yet tempered by a tear of pity born.
“Agnes! my Agnes!” in a suppliant voice
He spake; “Oh! dost thou shun my clasping arms,
And rather choose this grim and ghastly death,
To dower with all thy charms? Oh! let me place
Upon that fairest hand this spousal ring,
Pledge of our future nuptials; then shall all
This dark and bloody pageantry of death,
The axe, the block, the gloomy lictors, all
Pass from thy sight for ever. Agnes! speak!”