CHAPTER XXVI.
The most successful men in life are usually those who, by experienceor by instinct, have learned to calculate other people's actions. Itis not invariably so, although, at first sight, such ought naturallyto be the result. If a man knows and sees all the paths around himclearly, surely he ought to be able to choose that which will lead himto the end he has in view.
But we always forget one element in our calculation of others, namely,self. We omit it altogether, or we do not give it its just value. Yetwhat an important element it is! We may know--we may calculate, ingeneral or in detail, what will be the course in which each man's mindwill lead him; but if we know not ourselves, we can never direct theresults; for, take away the main-spring from the watch, and the cogsand wheels are idle.
However that may be, Antonio was one of the keenest and mostclear-sighted men at that time in Italy, although his fortunes werestill humble, and his prospects not very brilliant. It required novery deep consideration to show a man of his character that Lorenzowould be at his quarters almost as soon as himself. He thereforewalked quickly, and had not waited five minutes before his young lordwas in the room.
"I wish to Heaven I could help bantering," thought Antonio, as he satexpecting every minute to hear Lorenzo's foot on the stairs; "it is aswell to be serious sometimes; but, on my life, the more one lives inthis world the less one thinks there is anything serious in it. It isall one great farce from beginning to end, and the only people whocannot look upon it as a joke are infants who have skewers stuck intothem by their nurses, men who are going to be broken on the wheel, andyoung lovers. These are the folks, especially the last, who cannotunderstand a joke. But here he comes; I must try to be grave."
"Now, Antonio," said Lorenzo, eagerly, "let me hear all about yourjourney;" and then he added with that sort of dalliance with thedesired subject which youth and love are wont to show, "How long wereyou in getting to Florence?"
"Upon my soul, my lord, I cannot tell," replied Antonio, "unless Iwere to stay to calculate how many inns I stopped at, how many timesmy horse cast a shoe, and how often I had to go round to get out ofthe way of some wild beast or another. But I got there as fast as Icould, be sure of that; and even then I was disappointed, for when Igot to Madonna Francesca's house I found everything shut up, andnothing but an old custode so deaf that he could not distinguishbetween Francesca and Ghibellina, for he told me that was the streetwhen I asked for his mistress. I made him comprehend at last by signs,and I then found out that the whole family, servants, pages, etc., hadall gone to the villa on the Bolognese road to spend the summer.There, of course, I had to go; but I put it off from the grey of thenight, as it then was, till the grey of the next morning; and a fineold place it is. Don't you recollect it, signor, when we were inFlorence long ago? just up in the chestnut woods on the second slopeof the mountains."
Lorenzo shook his head. "Well," continued Antonio, "it is somewhatlike that villa you admired close by Urbino, half castle, half palace.On one side it looks as gloomy as a prison, and on the other as gayand light as a fire-fly; and it has such a beautiful view all over theVal d'Arno, running up to San Miniato, and taking in Heaven knows howmuch of the country over the hills!"
"Well, well," said Lorenzo, impatiently, "I trust I shall see it erelong."
"Well, my lord, I put up my horse," continued Antonio, "and askedamong the servants for the signora. All the people recollected me, andI found she had a habit of sitting out in the garden in the earlymorning, just as she used to do at the Villa Rovera, which shows howpeople can be mistaken, for I thought she would have given up thatcustom when there was no person to sit with her; but they said shewould sit there and think for hours."
Lorenzo smiled, for he thought that he knew of whom she was thinking,and he remembered that, even in the bustle of the march, he had passedmany an hour sitting listlessly on his horse, thinking of her.
"Well, I did not find her very easily, my lord," continued Antonio,"for it is a curious labyrinth of a place--villa, and gardens, andall--but a last I caught sight of something like a white robe just inthe shade of a tall old cypress tree. The beautiful lady was veryflattering to me; and I am a personable sort of a man, I believe, noteasily to be forgotten when once seen. But she remembered me in aminute, and started up and ran forward to meet me, crying out, 'Whatnews--what news, Antonio? Is he safe--is he well?' Then she gave meher hand to kiss, and I kissed it, and put your letter into it, andthen she kissed the letter; but it was a hypocritical kiss, that, forshe tore it the next minute in a very barbarous manner, in order toget at the inside. Then she kissed it again and read it. Then she readit again, and she did not speak a word for nearly half an hour, butwent back and picked out little bits of the letter, just as a childpicks the nice bits out of a pie."
"Out upon you, Antonio!" cried Lorenzo; "here the dear girl has beenshowing all the warm feelings of her heart only for you to laugh at."
"Indeed, I was more like to cry, for she herself cried in the end, andthe tears flowed over the long black lashes and fell upon the letter,and had I been a crying person, I must fain have wept to keep hercompany. It is very funny, my lord, that people cry when they areextremely happy, for I am quite certain that Donna Leonora was notcrying for sorrow then, and yet she cried as if her eyes werefountains of diamonds; and then she wiped them with her kerchief, andturned away her head and laughed, and said, 'This is very foolish,Antonio, but I have been dreaming of this letter's coming so long, andnow it is so much sweeter than I thought it would be, that--' and thenshe forgot what she was going to say, or perhaps she never intended tosay anything more; but I understand very well what she meant, for allthat."
Antonio paused, but Lorenzo was not yet half satisfied. He taxed theman's memory to the utmost. I am not sure he did not tax hisimagination also to tell him every word, and to describe every look ofLeonora. Then he made him speak of the villa; and there Antonio wasquite at home, for, during the three days he had stayed, nothing hadescaped his attention. He knew every corner in the house, and everywalk or terrace in the gardens; and a strange, wild, rambling place itmust have been, the manifold intricacies of which spoke but tooplainly the terrible and lawless times which existed at the time ofits construction, and which, alas! existed still.
The ruins may still be seen upon the slope of the Apennines, and manya passage and chamber may be found lighted only by the rays which canfind their way through a thin plate of marble undistinguishable on theoutside from the wall or rock. The light thus afforded, be itremarked, though dim, and at first hardly sufficient to guide thefootsteps, is mild and pleasant, and the eye soon becomes accustomedto it.
Mona Francesca and sweet Leonora d'Orco have passed away; the wallshave crumbled, and in many parts fallen; on base, and capital, andfluted column wild weeds and tangling briers have rooted themselves,but a short, smooth turf, dotted with the deep-blue gentia, leads fromthe high road to the villa; and where several terraces once cut uponthe side of the hill, may still be traced, and over which the feet ofLeonora once daily walked, a thick covering of short myrtle, with itssnowy stars, has sprung up, as if fragrance and beauty rose from hervery tread.
Antonio described the place as it then was, and the young loverfancied he could see the first, dearest object of his ardent naturewandering amid the cypresses which led in along avenue from the villato the convent higher up the hill, or seated upon the terrace lookingtoward Naples and counting, with the painful longing which he felt inhis own heart, the long hours which had to elapse ere they could meetagain.
It seemed as if Antonio's eyes could look into his heart, for just atthe moment when that longing had reached its highest point, he saidquietly, "I wonder, my lord, that you do not quit this French serviceand court, and here, in our own beautiful Italy, spend the rest ofyour days, when you have here large estates, and the loveliest andsweetest lady in all the world ready to give you her hand for theasking. On my life, I would take the cup of happiness when it is full.Heaven knows, if you let i
t pass, how empty it may be when it comesround again, if ever."
Wise, wise Antonio! you have learned early the truth of the words ofyour old patron,
"Chi voul esser lieto sia. Di doman non c'e certezza."
Lorenzo remained silent and thoughtful, and it must be owned thetemptation was very strong; but he remained silent, as I have said,and the man went on. "What advantage can you, sir, gain from France?What tie binds you to follow a monarch engaged in the wildestenterprises that ever entered a vainglorious head!"
"Hush! hush! Antonio," said Visconti; "speak no ill of King Charles.Much leads me to follow him; many advantages can be reaped fromFrance, and advantages which, for my Leonora's sake, I must notneglect. Have I not received from Charles's hands the order ofchivalry? Have I not been led by him into the way of glory and renown?Has he not protected my youth, treated me with every kindness,advanced me even above those who are superior to me in all respects?
"And would you have me share in all the glorious and successful pastof his career, and leave him at a moment when clouds are gathering inthe sky, and danger and difficulty menace his future course? But evenwere I base enough to do so, where is security, peace, justice,tranquillity to be found in this unhappy land? Were I alone in life,without bond of love, or the happiness of any other depending upon me,I might, indeed, cast myself into the struggling elements now at workin Italy--I might venture all to serve or save my country. ButLeonora, what would become of her? France may meet with a reverse or amisfortune, but it can only be for a time. There is peace and securityfor her I love. Even here, under the banner of the king, is the onlysafety, the only hope of justice and security. I must not abandon onewho can and will give aid and protection to all who serve himfaithfully."
"But suppose this king were to die," said Antonio, "where would beyour security then?"
"Founded more strongly than ever," answered Lorenzo; "the Duke ofOrleans is more nearly related to me than King Charles, and I havealways stood high in his favour. But there is no chance of KingCharles dying. He is young, healthy, and destined, I trust, to a longlife and a long reign. The thought would be far more pleasant to me totake my Leonora into France, where, safe from all the dangers of thisbeautiful and beloved but distracted land, she might spend her days insecurity and peace, than to remain with her here, were all the highestprizes of ambition ready to fall into my hand. No, no, Antonio, I mustnot dream of such things. My lot is cast with that of the King ofFrance, at least for the present. Perchance, ere long, the opportunitymay occur of bearing my Leonora away to other lands. I cannot formplans, I cannot even judge of probabilities, where all is uncertaintyand confusion; but through the mists of the present and the darknessof the future twinkles still a star of hope, which will guide us homeat last, I trust. Now go and get rest and food, Antonio. I have taxedyour patience; but you would forgive me if you knew what had been theanxieties of the last few weeks and the relief of this day."
Antonio left him, and Lorenzo turned to Leonora's letter again. As heread he kissed the lines her hand had traced again and again; but theymust have a place alone, as showing the character of her who wrotebetter than any words of mine could do.