:''• "KS^ COUNT FALCON OF THE EYR.IB \yi CLINTON S COLLARD CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM Rhoads General Hospital Cornell University Library PS 2792.C85 Count Falcon of the Eyrie a narrative wh 3 1924 022 163 301 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022163301 THE DEVOTION OF ELISABETTA. COUNT FALCON OF THE EYRIE A Narrative wherein are set forth the Ad- ventures of GviDO Orrabelli DEI Fal- c H I during a certain Autumn of his Career By CLINTON SCOLLARD A Roman ? Aye, with that high, antique air That marks the man whose nature 'tis to dare! Benvenuto da Roma NEW YORK JAMES POTT ^ COMPANY 1903 Copyright, igoj, by James Pott £sf Company Printed September, 1903 Contents CRAmX rAGB I. Back from the Wars . . . " . 7 II. A Face Out of the Past i8 III. A Dinner at Papachristos' . 29 IV. The Morning After 4' V. The Coming of Cencio 49 VI. Farewell to Venice . 61 VII. The Brawl at Bologna 73 VIII. The Meeting in the Furlo Pass 86 IX. The Old Falcon 98 X. At the Eyrie . :o8 XI. The Road to Rome . 121 XII. I Encounter an Old Friend in the Via Flaminia 132 XIII. The Conference at the Swiss Wine House 146 XIV. In Which I am Transformed into Lippo, the ' Humpback ..... 15s XV. In Which I Assume the Role of My Cousin Ascanio ..... !66 XVI. In the Chapel of the Palazzo Orrabelli . , 178 XVII. Out of Rome ... ... 187 XVIII. In the Chestnut Wood .... 201 XIX. The Hand of Zarelli .... 2JO XX. The Duke's Mercy 7,7.3 XXI. The Devotion of Elisabetta 235 XXII. How the Black Death Came to Spetto 244 XXIII. In the Piazza del Duomo .... 251 XXIV. Of the Riding of the Duke of Riletto to the > Eyrie .... I • 1 JS7 To George Emerson Brewer^ M. Z?., My Dear Georgk : Though we never wandered together through the lovely land wherein the scene of this narrative is laid, yet, in the by-gone time, we were companions upon many a pleasant path. It is in memory of those halcyon days that I inscribe to you these pages. C. S. CHAPTER I Back from the Wars ALL the bright-starred September night we lay becalmed. With the languid lipping of the water upon the sides of the brigantine were mingled the groans and curses and prayers of the wounded who cumbered the cabins, and were sprawled in every conceivable posture about the decks. Above, the sails and cordage hung as flaccid and lifeless as the raiment upon the form of one stark in death. We were a body of broken men, — the remnant of a splendid armament which one of the great admirals of Venice had hurled against the Turks to be shattered by sea and decimated by land. We had left our com- rades on the beaches of Candia, by the shores of Cyprus, under the frowning promontories of Epirus> and in the rocky wastes of the Morea. We were sore and maimed and bitter at heart, and the sharp sword of defeat had pierced each of us to the soul. With the red sun rose an inspirating breeze from out the east that rippled the sea into waves of delicate crim- son and gold, bellied the limp sails, and bore us, ere- long, swiftly on our homeward course. The sick [7] Count Falcon of the Eyrie seemed to revive; into the eyes of the wounded re- turned the gleam of the light of hope; and when the look-out at the mast-head sighted, beyond the low-lying Lido, the crest of the campanile of San Marco and an- nounced the fact with an exultant cry, not a few, who the night before had been the loudest in their groans, made hurried shift to clamber into the shrouds, and join in the shout of joy. Then the lesser domes and towers sparkled into view; we ran past the forts, dip- ping our flag in salute, and with lowered sails slipped gently in toward the quay whence, a few months earlier, we had embarked in expectant pride. News of our arrival sped, as by some inexplicable magic, through that part of the city adjacent to the landing-place, and leaped from boat to boat even as far as the mouth of the Grand Canal. When at length we had made fast to the quay the open space swarmed with the idle, the curious, and the interested, Avhile about us upon the water barges and gondolas gathered in a constantly broadening semi-circle. As the many wounded limped, or were borne, ashore, a murmur of mingled compassion and rage swelled up from the throng. Questions were shouted concerning this or that well-known soldier or sailor; the whereabouts of the rest of the fleet was demanded ; and when, at last, the extent of the disaster to which the arms of Venice had been subjected was understood the onlookers were [8] Back from the Wars transformed into a frenzied crowd through which it was difficult to force a path. Some one would fain lay hold upon each one of us to make inquiries in re- gard to a father, a husband, a brother, or a sweetheart, and only the arrival of half a company of halberdiers from the palace of the Doges averted a crush in which the lives of many women and children might have been sacrificed. Before we made fast to the quay I summoned such men of my command of southern mercenaries as could' use their limbs. Giving them assurance that I would look zealously after their interests with the Council of Ten (whom I had generally been able to reach through a friendly member of that much-feared body), I dis- missed them for the time being, having first appointed a meeting-place for the afternoon of the following day. Several of my company volunteered to care for those who were unable to walk, so when the rush for the- shore was past, nearly all semblance of general disci- pline having sometime since vanished, I sought the quay, and, by dint of elbowing and a free use of my sword scabbard, won through the crowd. Presently I caught the ear of a gondolier who was skirting the edge of the press upon the water, and was at length gliding on my way to my old lodgings, — rooms that I had occupied for the best part of three years before set- ting out on the black-fated expedition against the [9] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Turks. I hoped to find the apartments untenanted, and to be able to take repossession. Save a few be- longings which I had left with my landlord, my good sword and dagger, and the raiment on my back, were my sole gear. (I speak not now of certain treasure ac- quired during my campaigning that one of the Venetian bankers held for me.) I had barely enough money in my belt to requite the gondolier for his services, but my spirits were lighter than they had been for many a day. The sting of the wounds in my side and upon my hip was well-nigh gone ; the gruesome sounds from the half-disabled battle-ship no more rang dolorous and dispiriting in my ears ; and the familiar and peace- ful sights around me in a measure drove from my brain the terrible scenes of rapine and carnage and defeat I had witnessed during the weeks and months just gone. Out of sorrow and bloodshed and death I had come back to joy and serenity and life at flood. There was a swift passing to and fro of boats as we entered the Grand Canal, — trading craft from the outer islands, barges from Murano and Chioggia, and gondolas of rich merchants and noblemen. Tongues were fluent, and hearts seemed blithe on boat and shore, for the grim sound of "disaster" had as yet been heard only as the faintest echo. Indeed, when the knell of the word smote upon the hearing of these gay Venetian folk it would not affect them as a body for any appre- [10] Back from the Wars ciable length of time, such was their native gay-heart- edness and never-faihng confidence in the prowess of the Republic. My gondolier, with the familiar warning cry, swung into one of the side water-ways. Over the wall of a palace garden a rose-vine trailed, bearing faint-blush- ing flower-clusters, and I noted that its leaves showed none of the russet traces of autumn. Somewhere above, from an open casement, floated the strains of a love-song. I sank back against the cushions of the gondola, and closed my eyes. Love, I knew, save of the grosser sort, was not for the soldier of fortune who might be here to-day,many miles hence to-morrow, and before another night lying with ashen face turned to- ward the heavens. Yet after six years of a roving bravo's life I occasionally had my dreams. The bloom of youth which I had worn when I had come to Venice, an exile and a hunted man, had faded from my cheek, but there was no touch of age, so my glass told, upon my face, and as for my figure, there were gross flat- terers who whispered that no captain in the service of the Republic could boast one more erect or well-pro- portioned. A slight jar roused me from my revery, and my lifted lids revealed to me that I had reached my desti- nation. Having handed the gondolier his fee, I mounted to the level of the narrow pavement of the [II] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Calle Dandolo, and there, in a wicker-bottomed chair, tipped back against the wall of his house, sat dozing my former landlord, good Messer Niccolo, a veteran of the Veronese wars. The gray stubble showed upon his chin just as it had done the morning I had bidden him adieu five months agone, and, after he had started up at my greeting and blinked a moment, there was the same kindly gleam in his eyes that had warmed my heart on my departure day. "Dio!" he cried, giving my hand a tremendous grip, "but it is the Signer Capitano back again ! Welcome ? a thousand times welcome!" I smiled my thanks before I put them into words, and my sight grew a trifle misty. Messer Niccolo surveyed me from head to foot, and then leaned for- ward and peered into my face. "Fortune has gone against us, an I mistake not!" exclaimed he. "Aye," I returned, "fate has dealt the arms of Venice a sore blow!" "Hell seize the infidels!" he cried. "Come within, and let me hear what has chanced." He drew me into a small room on the lower floor where his wife, Bettina, was bending over a cushion upon which was a half-finished piece of lace. Here, when I had made answer to the voluble greetings of the robust partner of Messer Niccolo's joys, over a [12] Back from the Wars bottle of most excellent chianti I unfolded my sorrow- ful tale amid the tearful exclamations of the woman and the muttered imprecations of the man. "By Jesu!" ejaculated Niccolo, when I had con- cluded, "it will take the blood of a whole province and the blackened hulks of a goodly fleet to wipe out that score ! I would to the saints that I might have a hand in evening up matters !" Bettina looked upon him with startled eyes, as though she half expected to see him bolt out of the doorway to do vengeance upon the "dogs of Islam" with his rheumatic remaining arm. "A long score it is," said I dully, for I had been gorged with battle. Messer Niccolo gave me a swift glance of anger that changed to one of compassion. "Poor Capitano," he said, with a note of sincere sympathy in his tone, "I do not marvel that you are for the time cast down. After a little, however, it will be diiiferent. Take the word of an old soldier for it. In a week's time you will be on fire to wipe out the dis- grace in blood." "I'll not deny it," I replied, "but now, Niccolo, but now — " "Yes, yes," he broke in, "I understand. Put it all by, as much as may be. We, — Bettina, here, and I, — will look after you. We will bring you back to your- [13] Count Falcon of the Eyrie self. The rooms above are at your disposal. Will you go up to them ?" I assented joyfully, and, of a truth, it was a boon to find myself encompassed by those familiar walls, to see comfort and cleanliness about me again. With wondrous deftness, considering that he was bereft of an arm, Messer Niccolo assisted me to bathe and dress my wounds, producing a Swiss balsam which he as- sured me was just the thing needful to work a complete cure in a few days. The caring for my hurts accom- plished, I stretched myself on a comfortable bed for the first time in five months, and ah, the utter luxury of it, and the untroubled peace of the sleep that succeeded ! When I awakened the afternoon was waning. Upon the chair at the side of my couch was a suit which I had left in Messer Niccolo's care, and I noted as I donned it, that it had just been freshened, doubt- less by the industrious Bettina. I was sallying out in search of something to fill the complaining void within me, when my landlord hailed me, begging me to tarry a bit, and when I followed him into the room where we had conversed, lo, there was a stuffed pheasant sur- rounded by|§rjtichokes to which Messer Niccolo bade me address myself, while Bettina, in the background, smiled her approval ! Now I had always treated these two good souls with much courtesy, chatting familiarly with the soldier, bringing an occasional nosegay, or [14] Back from the Wars some trifle of a trinket, to his wife, and here was my reward. They were almost as pleased at my return as they would have been at the home-coming of a son, "It is in honor of the Capitano's safety and presence with us once more," said Niccolo, with a little flourish of pride. "I can best thank you," I answered, "by making way with the whole bird and its garnishings," and this I proceeded to do, while the two hovered about me like pleased children. My repast over, I made haste to present myself at the headquarters of the officer commanding the Vene- tian land forces, to which branch of the service I be- longed, and after a very satisfactory interview with one of the adjutants to whom I rendered a report, I was granted, through him, leave from duty for several weeks to recuperate. I also procured orders for the remuneration of myself and my men, and it was my further purpose, as I have already indicated, to obtain additional reward for those who served under me through one of the Council of Ten. With this gentle- man — a nobleman of the highest rank — I now without difficulty gained audience, since it was to hhn, on com- ing to Venice, that I had brought letteSs'from my father, and it was owing in part to his influence (though I may say, without boasting, that my own ex- ertions had something to do with it) that I held my present position. [IS] Count Falcon of the Eyrie My greeting by this exahed personage was cordial, and my mission successful. With him I left a list of the survivors of my company meriting advancement and special favor from the state, having first recounted my experiences in the disastrous expedition, he in the meanwhile making note of certain details which, he said, would be of use to him at the meeting of the Ten which would take place on the following day. Although I was bidden to a banquet which my pa- tron was that night giving, I made my wounds and late exhausting deprivations an excuse for refusing the in- vitation, though, in reality, the chief cause was the fact that I could not endure the company of the eldest daughter of the house who, having failed to secure two or three lovers on whom she had set her heart, was now bent upon bestowing her already cheapened affections on me. Although I owed her sire much, and was truly grateful to him for what he had done for me, I did not feel that in order to express gratitude I must necessarily marry his mature and yet kittenish daughter. In my cup of satisfaction there was that night, as I laid my head upon my pillow, but one drop of bitter- ness. This was the lack of news from home, — that I had found on my return no greeting from my father. Every three months during the long and often lonely six years of my exile had I received a letter from him [i6] Back from the Wars and dispatched one to him. But Niccolo had reported that no messenger had asked for me during my ab- sence, and had returned to me the missive I had penned and entrusted to his charge before embarking against the Turks. The more I pondered on my father's sil- ence, the more did a cold fear close in upon my heart. At first I had been too exhausted bodily, and latterly too occupied, to give the matter clear thought, but now that I lay upon my bed wide-eyed in the darkness, the full force of what the non-appearance of a letter might mean flooded in upon me. Sometimes I had visions still (I had them frequently in the earlier days of exile) that the black cloud which hung over my name would be dispelled by a kindly sun, and I should be allowed to come to my own again, that I should clasp my dear father in my arms once more, but now I seemed to see an open grave, there was a choking in my throat, and my eyes were hot with tears. [17] CHAPTER II A Face Out of the Past THROUGHOUT the black watches of that night I tossed upon my bed, and when the half-light of early dawn looked in upon me it found me with a fever burning at my bones. As the gray showed the first streak of gold I rose and de- scended to the Calle Dandolo. The touch of the faintly stirring air of morning was comforting, but the hot sensation was not allayed, and my wounds seemed eat- ing into my flesh like live coals from a brazier. The walls, closing about me, were stifling. The stones on which I set my feet became suddenly to my imagination a covering for hidden fires. , "Is this some wretched ship-sickness ?" I said to my- self, "or some fiery malady which I have brought with me out of the sea isles, that has lain dormant all this time, but is now gripping me to consume me?" Then I began to think with yearning of the sea, I who yesterday had left it with such thankfulness of soul. Finding that I was able to walk without diffi- <:ulty, I began to thread with considerable rapidity the passages which led to the Piazza San Marco. Just re- [i8] A Face Out of the Past moved from this square was the shop of an apothecary whom I had patronized on one or two occasions. He was about taking down his shutters when I appeared before him, and readily mixed me a draught which, he averred, would cool my blood. "You have been letting your fancies run away with you," said he, regarding me keenly; "and you have been passing through a severe physical and mental strain. You need rest, Signore." I thanked him for his advice, and handed him his fee. The sea still continued to call to me, so I went onward in the direction of the Guidecca. As I strode forward, I recalled a former comrade in arms, a man who had served with me several years before, who had quitted the wars, married, and was engaged in trade with Murano, transferring provisions thither from Venice and the mainland. I knew his barges and lighter craft were frequently moored not far away, and bent my steps toward the spot in the hope that I might chance upon my acquaintance, for I remembered that he was often wont to go out with his boats if a cargo of any importance was to be delivered. Erelong I descried his compact form in the distance, his arms swinging, his head tossing from one side to the other, the cutting quality of his voice falling on my ear as it used to out of the ranks when there was dan- ger afoot. [19] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Presently I hailed him. "Hey, Messer Pietro !" said I. "Here is an addition to your cargo!" He wheeled about and cocked an inquisitive eye at me, the old scar upon his cheek (which had been far worse save for my timely intervention one bloody day at Rhodes) showing crimson under his exertions. "Well, what is it?" he growled. "I'm in haste this morning. No good, I avow," and he swiftly scanned my costume, "can any ruffler want in Murano at this hour!" It was the same irascible Pietro Nerli who stood be- fore me, his gruff manner his worst characteristic. For more than a year we had not encountered, and in the lean and dark-visaged bravo approaching him Pietro did not recognize the round and fair-faced sol- dier under whom he had borne arms as a petty officer. It was my laugh, so he said later, that revealed to him my identity. He threw his head forward, and his eyes seemed about to pop from his head. "You, Capitano, you!" he cried. "Why, the San Appolinare came in yesterday, — the only ship left of the fleet, 'tis said. You and your company did not go out on her, and I thought — " "Yes," I broke in, "I understand. We did not go out on her, but we returned upon her, through God's tnercy. This morning I have a burning at my bones [20] A Face Out of the Past — haply it is the horrors I have seen consuming me — ■ and I yearn for the open blue where I can breathe the clean morning air, and also have a plunge into the sea. Will you take me with you ?" "Take you ? say you ! Dio, it will be not only a pleasure, but an honor! And I know you will not store it up against me that I greeted you after my na- ture. Some of the saints put an abrupt tongue into my head, and no prayer will alter it. Look you, Cap- itano !" he cried, with a quick change of intonation, "do you note yonder ship making in toward us?" I followed the direction indicated by his arm, and descried a trim barque skimming shoreward under full sail. "She's mine !" exclaimed Pietro, with pride. "Mine, mark you! She plies between Venice and Chioggia. I bought her six months ago with my Murano profits." "You certainly are to be congratulated upon possess- ing such a vessel," said I, eyeing the nearing craft ad- miringly. "She is a veritable gull." "Let us see her draw near, and then we will em- bark," remarked Messer Nerli. "It is easy to tell that you dote on her as a fond lover does upon a new mistress," said I, with a laugh. He responded with a chuckle. "A ship, like the barque yonder, is worth a dozen mistresses !" cry L "She will respond to the lightest [21] Count Falcon of the Eyrie ■touch of your will, while a woman, more likely than tiot, will fly to contraries." While the master of Messer Nerli's boat was super- intending the furling of the large lateen sail, and the vessel, somewhat arrested in her headway, was swing- ing in toward the adjoining quay, a tall closely-cloaked figure emerged from the cabin, and moved forward to- ward the prow. Within a pace from the rail the man lialted and began to scan the shore, his glance sweeping Tapidly over the shipping, the quays, the adjacent build- ings, and the towers and domes that now flung back the radiant new-day light. Beneath a plumed hat I saw a pair of alert and penetrating eyes, eyes that burn- ed in a face of yellow pallor, — a face which I should fiave known had I encountered it in the remotest regions of Ind. Beholding it there suddenly that golden autumnal morning, one of the few black pictures of my boyhood rose vividly outlined before me. This man, who had "been the steward of our Calabrian estates, and my father, occupied the center of the scene. My father, liis features frozen with rage and scorn, was ordering what punishment should be meted out to the trusted and supposedly impeccable steward who had been de- tected in the practice of abominable cruelties and in ex- tensive defalcations. The malignity, the fiendish ha- tred, which crossed the visage of Zarelli, the unworthy [22] A Face Out of the Past servant, when my father commanded that he be brand- ed upon the back, was something that long haunted my youthful imagination. After sentence was exe- cuted, and the steward driven forth from the estates, he disappeared for some time. Then we heard of him in the service of a Neapolitan nobleman, and later in the train of a Spanish grandee tarrying in Rome, but since my life in exile I had hardly thought of him. Yet here he was, and seemingly alone. Could his coming to Venice have aught to da with me? The suggestion, on a second con- sideration, appeared absurd. I tried to conjecture what his errand might be, but finally, with an inward smile at the folly of my thoughts, I turned to- Messer Nerli. "I see my ship-master has picked up a passenger," he said. "I should dislike to have yonder man for a foe, and I certainly should not wish him for a friend."" "I was remarking the Signore's face," I answered, "and assuredly it is not that of an angel." "Angel! well, no, unless he be one of the cast-out variety ! But come, let us turn our backs upon so dis- agreeable an image. You wish a taste of the fresh breeze, and a plunge in the waves, and you shall have both." The barge upon which we embarked had four large oars, or sweeps, with which the sturdy boatmen, de- [23] Count Falcon of the Eyrie spite the fact that there was a cargo of goodly weight, propelled it rapidly, once we were clear of the canals. When about half the distance to Murano was com- passed we began to get a taste of a strong current of air froni the open sea, and a fine tonic it seemed to me. I stripped off my clothes, and having secured a rope about my waist leaped into the running waves wherein I frolicked like a fish of the deep waters. By the time we reached Murano the apothecary's cooling draught, the healing sea-breeze, and the assuaging plunge into the swirUng tide, had taken the fever out of my blood, and I was as hungry as a winter-starved bear of the Apennines. Pietro entrusted the delivery of his cargo to one of his boatmen, and having each offered a brace of candles at the shrine of San Zeno, we repaired to a sea-goer's inn known to my companion where the cooking was of the best, and were soon devouring a delicately flavored stew of lampreys with fane zest. "You are a benefactor, Pietro !" I cried, as I leaped ashore in Venice just before the noon hour. "On three mornings in each week — " and he named the days — "you will fin'd me bound for Murano," re- turned he. "Come upon any of them, and we will re- fight the old battles over a dish of Messer Marcello's lampreys." I thanked him again, and turned toward the Piazza [24] A Face Out of the Past San Marco. My anxiety in regard to my father's siF- ence had not abated, and I was conscious of whatr seemed a fooHsh feehng of discomfort over the pres-- ence of our former steward, ZarelH, in the city, but oni the whole I was more my own man than on the pre- vious day. There were a number of officers loitering in front of the palace of the Doges, some of whom recognized me, and gave me a friendly greeting, ques- tioning me in regard to comrades who had gone out with me against the Turks to return no more. Having replied to their inquiries, I passed on as far as the porch of the cathedral where, in the cool shadow, I paused for a moment to look out upon the square, a spot that always attracted me, for I held it to be one of the no- blest piazzas in all Italy, though the view from the op- posite end was far more imposing than that on which I now gazed. At length I swung about with the intention of con- tinuing on my way, and came into violent contact with a young man who had just issued from one of the ca- thedral doors. "By Bacchus !" cried he, "I am but this instant fresH from making a thank-offering of a dozen candles to the Virgin because I have no duel to fight to-day, and now I encounter you, Signor Clumsiness, and my prayers and the blessed candles are all for naught since I pro- pose to rid Venice of such a stumbling boor. By Saint [25] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Mark, no one's toes will be safe with you abroad !" I strove in vain to restrain my mirth, choking over a blundering apology. Here was my best friend, not recognizing me in the strong glare that flamed into his eyes, bent upon skewering me. Paolo Giannotti, descendant of one of the last of the Doges, handsome, possessed of brilliant parts, rich in his own right through his dead mother, was at twenty- five still a spoiled child. I was his only intimate with whom he had not quarreled and fought. He had a leaping temper which he would rarely restrain, and in co]isequence was ever at odds with some one. His duels were the constant talk and amusement of the city, for in reality he was so kind-hearted beneath his fiery exterior that when it came to a passage at arms he was seldom inclined to harm any one seriously, and as for being injured himself, that was hardly to be consid- ered, his skill with the sword was so extraordinary. We had been intimates (in so far as I allowed my- self to be intimate with any one) from the night, about a year after my arrival in Venice, when I had chanced to come to his sister's aid as her gondola was being at- tacked by ruffians in one of the side canals while she was pursuing her way homeward from a ball. The palace of Paolo's family and that of the member of the Ten to whom I had borne letters from my father were the only houses which I had permitted myself to visit [26] A Face Out of the Past since I had entered the Venetian service, while Paolo and the nobleman to whom I have just referred were the only Venetians who, so far as I was aware, had any clue to my identity, or were in the least cognizant of the story of my past life. To my friend I had revealed nothing until I saw that his sister and I were likely to be drawn toward one another, and then, in order to ex- plain ray less frequent visits to his home, I made him largely my confidant. Perhaps it was his sympathy for me, his belief in the truth of my unfortunate story, his realization of the honorable part I was playing in re- gard to his sister whom I might have grown to love, and who, I divined, was developing an attachment for me, that led him always to preserve toward me an equable demeanor. Paolo perceived that I was laughing at him, and not dreaming who I was, became plunged in a hot frenzy of rage. "Madre di Dio!" he began, and his weapon was half drawn when I shifted my position, the light ceased to dazzle his eyes, and he was able to get a clear view of my face. On the instant his wrath was turned to merriment. "By the Saints of Joy, it's you !" he shouted, spring- ing forward and embracing me, "you, of all people on earth! Where, in the name of the mass, come yott from?" [27] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Surely you have heard of the arrival of the San ApoUinare!" said I. "Certainly, but she was not your ship." "Ah, I persist in forgetting that!" "You must tell me all about it to-night. I see by your face that you have been through terrible exper- iences. You are at your old lodgings ? Yes ? I will call for you in my gondola at six. We will have one of Papachristos' little dinners. He is still the vogue. I have yet to breakfast, and am late." He embraced me again, and hurried away across the piazza, waving his hand to me from a distance. I watched him till he disappeared, put into good humour by the absurdity, yet the genuine true-hearted feeling, of our meeting. I was still standing beneath one of the arches of the cathedral porch, in this smiling mood, when two men passed swiftly in front me. The nearer of them was one of the Ten, while the further was the traveler whom I had seen arrive from Chioggia that morning, Michele Zarelli, my father's former steward. The twain strode in the direction of the Doges' palace, and for some reason, I could not say why, the elation caused by my encounter with Paolo left me on a sud- den, and a clutch of dread tightened about my heart. [28] CHAPTER III A Dinner at Papachristos' HAVING met my men at the appointed after- noon rendezvous, and explained, to their general satisfaction, what I had accomplish- ed in their behalf, I dismissed them, as I had been em- powered to do, for a brief period, bidding them report at the parade near the Castello on a certain morning. Each soldier had that which would soon set the good coin of Venice jingling in his pockets, so all went their several ways rejoicing, while I was left gloom- wrapt and alone. I seemed somehow to realize that I was approaching one of the crises in my life. I could not define the sen- sation that haunted me ; it had, however, nothing to do with the fever of the morning. This had wholly de- parted. I was in a highly-keyed state, conscious of imminent change, and try as I would I could not rid myself of the notion that Michele Zarelli was to have something to do with bringing about a recedence or an accession of the sands of fortune. I knew that Paolo would come that evening appar- eled in exquisite finery, so back to my lodgings I hur- [29] Count Falcon of the Eyrie ried, and set. about gathering such appropriate accoutre- ment as 1 could that I might not disgrace him. When his cheery hail sounded from below I was just fasten- ing a gay ribbon upon my doublet with a ruby brooch which I had filched out of the plunder of a Turkish town in the Morea. I hastened down to meet him, and there he lay, lolling back upon the gay cushions of the gondola, as smiling as young Endymion after a vision of the moon-goddess, as resplendent as Apollo tuning his lyre at a banquet on Olympus. "As prompt as usual, my most excellent soldier !" he cried, on beholding me. "Why do you not occasion- ally keep some one waiting? Every one, saving my- self, would think vastly the more of you for so doing." "You would have me copy you, I suppose," I re- joined, with a smile, as I took my place at his side, and he gave orders to the gondolier in regard to our des- tination. "Well, yes, in that one matter. As for the rest, God forbid!" Even to the very heart of the zenith the rose of sun- set had risen. It touched the water of the narrow ways faintly, flushed the stone and marble of many walls, and when we shot out into the Grand Canal we found ourselves skimming over an expanse that was like liquid blushes — so Paolo remarked with a little freakish pucker of his lips. [30] A Dinner at Papachristos' The landing-place which led to Papachristos' was jammed with gondolas, and the chatter of the boatmen was as voluble as that of the peasants at a holiday fair in the Banizzi where the Eyrie sits upon its pinnacle of rock. An extraordinary man was this Greek who had come from, heaven knew whither, out of the East. He was old — no one could guess how old. His face, when he laughed or frowned, and he appeared perpet- ually to be doing one or the other, would contract into as many wrinkles as are contained in a piece of crump- led parchment. It was whispered that his father had been cook to the last of the Comneni ; as for Papa- christos himself, he might have presided over the kitchen of Epicurus, such were the savory dishes of meat and fish and pastry for which his genius was re- sponsible. One week his establishment, a large house remodeled for his uses situated just off the Grand Canal, was practically unknown; another, and it was the most affected place of resort for all the male por- tion of fashionable Venice. Beside satisfying one's appetite, there one might learn all the newest games of cards, and become acquainted with the latest moves at chess, and the most skillful way of casting dice. There you could hear discussions not alone upon gastronomy and the beauty of women, two topics upon which the majority of men are prone to dwell, but also upon phi- losophy, poetry and religion, and in regard to whether [31] Count Falcon of the Byrie it were possible for a Turk to have a soul. There you were sure to see every visitor to Venice from whatever part of the known world he came, and so when Paolo and I entered the great room on the lower floor which was already half filled, I cast a careless glance about in the expectation that somewhere my eyes would fall upon the face of my father's quondam steward. He was not to be seen, however, so I made up my mind that he was either above stairs, or had not arrived, for at Papachristos' I knew he would be present that night. Paolo made his way to a table which had been re- served for us, flinging his greetings, gay or satirical, right and left as he passed along. To me a few in- clined their heads, a few spoke brief words of respect, a few uttered expressions of real cordiality. I realized that I was the cynosure of all eyes, for had I not come back with the remnant of the great fleets flung up on the shore of life from the gulf of death ! The few whom Paolo asked to join us accepted eagerly. They thirsted for news of former comrades ; they v\>ere anx- ious to know at first hand how the series of woeful dis- asters had culminated. When I had quaffed a chalice of wine, and had par- taken of a fowl stuffed in some marvellous fashion, I began regaling my companions with the story of my experience, and there grew great murmurs of horror and indignation as I went on. Others drew their stools [32] A Dinner at Papachristos' about us, and I had many listeners ere I finished. Then Paolo arose, and lifted his wine glass. "Perdition to the infidels!" said he, whereat a great ringing shout went beating and surging about the walls of the room, and we all drank a deep draught. "I would have you pledge with me the brave heroes gone!" cried I, in turn, "the dead who rest peacefully, though never a mass has been said over them, and those more unfortunate who survive in prison-cells, or are sold into barbarous slavery!" When to this toast all had drained a cup, some one proposed my name, an honor I must needs rise to ac- knowledge. I had expressed my sense of gr-atitude as feelingly and appropriately as I might, and was resum- ing my seat when, on chancing to glance behind me, I beheld Zarelli, standing not half a score of paces distant, in company with that member of the State Council with whom I had seen him that morning. How long the two had been observing and listening I had no notion. Our little company had become too absorbed in its own sayings and doings to give atten- tion to those who had drawn near. The man's eyes met mine, and I realized that he knew me, though how this could be was beyond my comprehension, unless the name I now bore had been revealed to him, and I had been pointed out as the one answering to it. Certainly he could hardly recall me from boyhood days. I had [33] Count Falcon of the Eyrie changed too much in fifteen years for him to hold my face in memory. Later it was divulged that my recog- nition of him was something he had not counted upon. There was a little pause after I seated myself, and into this interval the voice of Zarelli intruded itself, incisive and malicious. "I was not aware," said he, "that it was the custom of Venetians to toast notorious murderers, though there may be no harm in hiring them to fight the battles of the Republic." Every one was so aghast that his remarks were greeted by an awesome silence. I looked at Paolo, and saw his face gradually grow as white as the polished fa9ade of the palace of his fam- ily. Second by second the situation waxed more tense. I knew that the probable end of my career, so far as Venice was concerned, had come. Curiously I cared but little. The hideous stigma which fate had fastened upon my past was about to blacken my present, but I was prepared to endure the disgrace far more calmly than in days gone by. I even regarded Zarelli with a kind of half smile, wondering how he was preparing to unmask me. He was only the puppet of some vastly more potent individuality, acting basely for reward, monetary or otherwise. Gradually I became aware that the eyes of my com- panions were turning upon me. So clearly was the [34J A Dinner at Papachristos' deadly shaft aimed at my reputation that they wondered I did not rise indignantly to meet and spurn it. Paolo alone was aware why I was silent, and the knowledge kept him for the moment silent too. Zarelli shrugged his shoulders. "You are apparently very well satisfied with the man you honor," lie remarked, "so there is nothing more for me to say." He was wheeling about when Paolo, unable longer to contain himself, leaped to his feet, pushed aside those near him, and cleared almost at a bound the space that separated him from Zarelli. "You are a despicable, liver-faced coward !" he cried, and he smote my accuser powerfully in the face with his open palm. Strong arms instantly seized and parted the two men. "Signore," said one of those who had been dining with Paolo and myself, stepping forward, and con- fronting Zarelli, "it would be well for you, I think, if you would explain your accusations against this gentle- man — "indicating me — "who has proved himself a faithful servant to the Republic, and a brave officer in her armies." "Gentleman !" echoed Zarelli, with a sardonic laugh, "faithful servant! brave officer! why, yonder man is the notorious Guido dei Falchi, Count Falcon, the son [35] Count Falcon of the Eyrie of the Prince OrrabelH, who did the nephew of the Duke of Riletto, secretary to the Pope, so vihainously to death in Rome six years ago. The shock of the tragedy, you will recall, fatally affected the Duke's son and heir." His words rang out through the room like a paean of triumph, and many of those about me shrank away as though I was attainted with leprosy. Long and loud after my escape from Rome had my name been cried through the courts of Italy at the command of his Holiness, the Pope, and at the request of the Duke Off Riletto, and though the crime for which I had been tried and convicted was no whit blacker than many committed in open day, atid left unpunished, the prom- inence given to it, and the fact that those directly af- fected by it were of such exalted station, tended to mag- nify its baseness and inhumanity in the public mind. "Though I pass here as Captain Guido Riparto," I said, "I have never denied that I was Guido dei Falchi, the son of Prince Orrabelli of Rome, but before I speak further, as I wish to do, I demand to know who you are," and I flung out a rigid arm at Zarelli, "and why it .is after these years that you seek me out?" Suddenly it had flashed over me that back of this man's actions and virulent speech possibly might lie the secret of all my tragic misfortunes. I found him, however, most wary. [36] A Dinner at Papachristos' "Why do I come?" he shrilled. "There is blood still crying out for justice, — a father whose vengeance has never been satisfied!" His utterances laid bare the fact that one part of his plan had fallen through. He had been before the Council of Ten, and failed to get them to imprison me. My record in the Venetian service over-balanced any influence which he could bring to bear. He was now attempting to discredit me in the eyes of my friends and the public at large, and he had one of the Council at his back. But to what influence was his appearance due, and how had he discovered my present name and refuge ? The Duke of Riletto might in part be respon- sible, for I knew his hatred to be implacable, but the old m3'^stery still shrouded the accusation and persecution. Spurred by a combination of impulses I resolved to goad Zarelli, and then, in turn, expose him and see what would come of it. Paolo, vastly to my sorrow, had already thrown himself into the quarrel with such violence that whatever I might say would involve him no deeper, and as for myself I certainly had nothing to lose. "I suppose," I said, with icy irony, "that your errand is one entirely devoid of self-interest; no one recom- penses you; you are not aware of the old reward for my detention!" [37] Count Falcon of the Eyrie I noted that my attitude was disconcerting to him. Evidently he had fancied I would deny his accusations. Possibly he thought I would cringe before him. He was about to make some reply, but I raised my ■voice, and went swiftly on ere he could speak. "Listen, Signori !" I said, including, with a sweep of my eyes, those near me, those who had withdrawn, and those who were still wavering, "One evening, six years ago, a young Roman, Guido dei Falchi, who was an of- ficer in the Papal Guards, attended a banquet at which a dozen of his acquaintances were present, most of -whom he took to be his friends, and while at this ban- quet partook of drugged wine. He did not realize anything was wrong until he reached his apartments when he fell in a stupor on his bed, wakening the next tnorning to find himself the center of an amazed and horrified assemblage. There was blood upon his 'hands, upon his clothes, and upon his dagger; there were bloody tracks leading to his door from the apart- ment of Girolamo Nardi, nephew of the Duke of Ri- letto, and secretary to the Pope. Nardi had been found imurdered, and the Duke's son, a delicate stripling who had discovered the deed, had expired in a convulsion ibrought on by the horror of the sight. What could was sitting up, and by this time my own wounds were completely healed. One afternoon we were reclining near the half open door leading to a balcony overlook- ing the Grand Canal when Paolo's man appeared bear- [55] Count Falcon of the Eyrie ing a sealed parchment and a small heavy package both of which he handed me. "These," he said, "were just left below for the Cap- itano Riparto." Both parchment and package were inscribed with my name, and both were stamped with the seal of the Republic. I broke the fastening of the missive, and glanced at its contents. There was no ambiguity in the words that confronted me. My services to the state were highly commended, but it was affirmed that circumstances had arisen which forced the Council of Ten to the conclusion that a further retention of me in my command over the southern mercenaries might prove a source of contention and irritation hence, al- though with great reluctance, another captain had been chosen. In conclusion, the Council begged that I would accept, as a token of their good will and of their appreciation of my faithfulness, the contents of the package which accompanied the communication. "Zarelli?" queried Paolo, as I raised my eyes. "Yes, his influence," and I passed the parchment to my friend. He scanned it quickly. "You are right," he commented, "but your partisans forced those of your enemy to some concessions. Break the package!" I did so. It contained fifty gold ducats. [561 The Coming of Cencio "You will keep them?" Paolo demanded. "I can hardly do otherwise under the circumstances;. A man in my position, if he still means to face it out,., and not cry 'quits,' cannot afford such a luxury asi pride. "You do well to keep the money, not but what, your understand, my purse is always at your disposal." I thanked Paolo. "This missive from the Ten," I said, shifting the theme of our conversation, "settles one thing. I must leave Venice. My continued presence here means feud." "Can you depart without being followed?" "That remains to be seen." "Manolo told me yesterday that the palace was watched. He inclines to set a counter movement against Zarelli afoot." "Yes, I know, but he never shall do so with my con- sent. You have sacrificed more than enough already^ Henceforward I stand or fall alone." "What will you do?" "Try to reach Vienna, I think. There will shortly be plenty of employment for a free lance there. The peace with Turkey will not be lasting." "Would I might go with you ! I am tired of tWs popinjay life." [57] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Why lead it then? Surely the RepubUc needs a ready sword hke yours ! There is the last defeat to be wiped out." "My father, as you know, has always been set against my entering the service in a subordinate posi- tion, as I must at the outset. He has in mind too much the past of the family. But times have changed. Pos- sibly now I can win him over to my way of thinking." A few days later Paolo and I were again reclining by the open balcony door. The flush of returning strength was beginning to steal into the wanness of my friend's cheeks; his eyes were brighter, and his step more certain. "Paolo," I said, letting my gaze rest upon him, "my usefulness here is at an end." "But your welcome," replied he, "there will never be an end to that." "Your father is most kind," I assured him; "he would have me bide, even though my presence must be a source of annoyance. I never leave the palace by day without being followed, it matters not by which doorway I take my departure, and only last night, when I went out on foot with Manolo and two others we were set upon in the Calle Santa Maria, and might all of us been cut to pieces but for the timely arrival of some of the municipal guards. Let us not dwell upon this matter now. but after another day or two have [58] The Coming of Cencio passed we will consult in regard to how I can best slip away — I suppose it must be like a thief in the night." Paolo was about to reply when we heard a step in the corridor, and my friend's servant entered. "The Capitano Riparto's landlord, Messer Niccolo, is below," said he, "and has brought with him a youth who says he would communicate with the Capitano at once concerning facts of the gravest import." I glanced at Paolo. "Have him up here," he suggested, "that is if you do not mind my listening." "Conduct the youth hither," said I to the lackey. "He must be from home!" I exclaimed, after the man had gone. As my friend made no reply I fell to wondering what the messenger's coming portended. Presently a tall youth, one whom I could not recall, was ushered in. Gaunt and threadbare he was, but with the strength and energy of the men of Falco limned in every line of his face. His eyes traveled swiftly from me to Paolo, and then back to me, scanning my fea- tures intently. He turned to Paolo, and made him an obeisance. "Your servant, Signore," he said. Then he strode a step or two toward me, and drop- ped upon one knee. "Excellency," he began, but I cut him short. [59] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "No, no !" I cried. "It is only the Capitano Riparto whom you are addressing!" and I bade him rise. He gave me a shrewd look, and then I recognized him, for many a time I had seen that expression before on the face of old Matteo, the castellan of the Eyrie, he who had usually borne the missives from my father. "You are Cencio," I said, "Matteo's son." "Yes, Ex — Signor Capitano," this with a flash of a smile, "a most wretched substitute for my father, who, being needed at home, must needs ask the lUustrissimo, your father, to send me. A sorry business I have made of message-bearing," he continued gravely, "for I have lost that with which I was entrusted." He dropped upon his knee again. "If the Capitano will permit me," he exclaimed, "I will swear to serve him faithfully while life lasts that I may win a pardon for my fault." Despite the fact that I was much put out, if not an- gered, that the youth should have failed in his trust, his evident sincere desire to atone touched me. "Let us hear your story," I said to him. [60] T CHAPTER VI Farewell to Venice i i ^TP^ HREE weeks ago," began Cencio, "I left the Eyrie by night, and going on foot to Clivo there took horse. I had been told by my father that I might be spied upon, followed, at- tacked, and robbed of the missive I carried by those who wished to discover your whereabouts, so I was keenly upon the lookout for possible pursuers. I rode swiftly, my tarries were brief, and I was fancying I was beyond danger of detention by any who might have been set to watch for me, when a fierce storm de- layed me at a little inn south of Foligno, and during the tempest two travelers entered the common- room so suddenly that I had no opportunity to conceal my face in my cloak before they were gazing upon me, and from the expression of one I realized that they were upon my trail. When the down-pour ceased, and I mounted to continue on my journey, they mounted also. I endeavored to let them precede me, but on some pretext they halted, and I saw that they were determined not to depart until I did. It was mid- afternoon. The road to Foligno was through open [6i] Count Falcon of the Eyrie country, and there were horsemen passing to and fro, hence I felt in no peril of immediate assault and moved briskly forward in advance. Perhaps one hundred paces in the rear they followed, accommo- dating their speed to mine. They were hard on my heels when I stopped at the Inn of the Three Shepherds just within the Porta Romana at Foligno. Five min- utes after my arrival I saw them conversing with the landlord, and pointing me out to him. Evidently they were urging my arrest for some supposed crime. It became clear to me that I must sacrifice my horse and my few belongings or be detained. Making a pre- tense of ascending the stairs to the room which I had taken, I slipped from the outer door instead into the tide of passers, and hastened toward the northern gate. As I emerged from the city there was a husbandman driving northward in his cart. I hailed him, gained his good will, and rode with him as far as his home just below the Porta Merriggia of Spello, a town to which I informed him I was bound. I skirted the walls in the dusk, however, and struck into the hills to Assisi. Here I purchased another horse, and then in- stead of proceeding by the vale of the Chiascio and the Furlo Pass, as I had intended, I ascended the Tiber to Citta di Castello, and by a series of zigzags through the Apennines reached Rimini. [62] Farewell to Venice "So long had I ridden without mishap that I fell into a dream of false security, and decided that I would rest half a day and a night to recuperate. The evening was close, and I went to walk by the sea. I was congratulating myself on my success and safety, pacing the sands in the moonlight, when suddenly I was felled by a fearful blow upon my head, and the only recollection I have is that of a triumphant face bending over me, — a face of yellow pallor out of which burned satanic eyes. When next I looked upon the light I was lying in a bunk in the contracted cabin of a coasting vessel. I had probably been left to be sucked in by the sea since the captain of the barque had found me, stripped of my possessions, in a spot where the in-rolling tide would have shortly engulfed me. I'he seaman was short of hands, and noting that naught really ailed me, bore me on board his ship. After a day's qualms and sore throbbing of the head I was able to serve my preserver, who, when he had touched at several ports and delivered or taken on cargo, had the goodness to land me in Venice this morning, and here, Capitano, I am, and now I will en- dure without a murmur whatever punishment it is your pleasure to inflict upon me, for I have proven un- worthy of a great trust." The honest fellow bowed his head, and I could see the flush of shame mantling his face. He was a true [63] Count Falcon of the Eyrie child of the strong race from which he sprang. Fail- ure to him meant disgrace, however difficult the task imposed upon him. Evidently my father and his had not taken into account the dangers newly arisen, and hard to give reason for, which would beset a messenger to me. The irritation which I had felt before hearing the youth's tale quite vanished. "Cheer up, Cencio!" said I. "No one can blame you for not achieving the impossible. Indeed, so long as you are here to tell me of my father the lost letter is of small import." "But I fear it has revealed you to those who are seeking you," said the youth. "It has," I returned, "but they have not yet harmed my person, as you see." "Excellency — ," he began. "I would remind you, Cencio, that I am hencefor- ward to you the Signor Capitano." "Pardon, Signor Capitano. I will remember." "Good ! Now there are many questions that I wish to ask you, but inform me first if you have eaten and drunk since you reached Venice ?" "I have, Signor Capitano, thanks to Messer Nic- colo." "What news have you of my father? Is he well?" "The Illustrissimo, your father, Signor Capitano, swore me before I left the Eyrie that I would say to [64I Farewell to Veniee you naught of himself save that he was in his usual health, and that I would reveal to you nothing of mat- ters in general. My father stood by my side and heard me make this promise, for I could act in no other wise. However, when we passed from the southern chamber adjoining the great hall, where the lUustrissimo was sitting, Fra Francesco, bearing a Ht- tle taper (the Signor Capitano will recall that it was night), came on tiptoe from the chapel, 'Cencio,' he said, 'if you fail to keep your promise to the Prince, I will absolve you, and stand as your defender.' Then he blessed me, and bade me go. From his words I knew that I was to hide nothing from you, and so T now say that the lUustrissimo is not well, — that the wound in his hip which he received while resisting an attack of the Duke of Riletto's men five weeks ago in the streets of Falco, does not heal." "The Duke's men!" I cried; "then his Grace has broken the solemn oath he took before his Holiness, the Pope, when my father was banished, that Falco and the Eyrie should remain unmolested !" "Yes, the oath has been broken, Falco is in the Duke's hands, and the Eyrie is encompassed. I made my exit by the secret postern and the cave." "Has no message been sent to Rome?" "Yes, two messengers have been despatched, but neither had returned when I departed. No more men [65] Count Falcon of the Eyrie can be spared, for the garrison is small. All are needed to repel attacks by ladder from the front. Then, it is said that the Pope is failing, and it is prob- ably useless to appeal to him for aid. His enfeebled condition may account for the Duke's action." "But who is at the head and front in Rome?" "Of that I know naught." "Is the Eyrie well provisioned ?" "Both food and wine must by this time be scarce, and there is a famine in the district of Falco." "But the monks of Pino ! Their granary used to be inexhaustible. Food could be brought in by the secret passage." "Yes, but the monks cannot give forever, and with- out recompense. The treasury of the Illustrissimo, so my father says, is well-nigh drained." I leaped to my feet. "I will go back with you, Cencio!" I cried. "If I walk into the jaws of death, so be it. My enemies seem to be closing about me here. Why should it be worse there? Haply through the reported imminent change at Rome what has heretofore been dark will be made light. If the Duke can be held off at the Eyrie I will even adventure to Rome and seek out my uncle, the [66] Farewell to Venice Cardinal. He has ever promised aid, so my father has written, when the right hour came." "His Eminence, your uncle the Cardinal, was at the Eyrie not long before the Duke descended upon Falco." "I suppose you did not hear it rumored whether it was on a friendly visit, or involved some matter of im- portance ?" "I heard nothing, Signor Capitano." We had always understood, my father and I, that it was owing to the influence of my uncle, my father's younger brother, the Cardinal Orrabelli, that, at the time of my trial and condemnation, aught had been saved to the family. The Eyrie and Falco were nom- inally a part of the Pope's Patrimony, though hard upon the borders of the Duke's domain, and it was into the Papal treasury that the sturdy mountaineers paid, through my father, their small tribute. To my uncle I had always looked as the one through whom I should one day clear my name of the dread stigma stamped upon it. He was close in the Pope's counsels, was even mentioned prominently among the successors to his Holiness. In my exile and my father's banishment he was practically the head of the house, and my cousin Ascanio (the offspring of a youthful amour with a cousin of my mother long before Giovanni Orrabelli dreamed of a red hat) occupied the place I had once held in Roman society. Ascanio had been reared with [67] Count Falcon of the Eyrie me in my father's palace, and though I had never fan- cied some traits of his character, we had always been, so far as appearances went, good comrades. When the dire stroke of fate overtook me, he, like me, was an officer in the Papal Guards, and had been present at the banquet where I had partaken of the drugged wine, having indeed, so he affirmed to my father, drunk of it himself. No complicity in the murder of the Pope's secretary had ever been attached to him, however, and while he and the Cardinal, owing to their close rela- tionship to my father and myself, had for a time been under a cloud, after a brief space the shadow seemed to lift from them, and they were as much in favor with the Pope as previously, while the Duke made no at- tempt to persecute them. It was a plot of the Filippucci, our old rivals with whom we had fought and against whom we had in- trigued, to ruin us all of which I had been made a vic- tim. This was what my uncle averred, and my father could offer no explanation more plausible. One day, they both said, the accursed treachery would be laid bare, but the years had slipped away until I had grown to believe my name would always be a byword on the lips of men. The enmity of the Duke of Riletto against my father and me we had known to be unre- lenting, though held in abeyance. Everything now pointed to show that he was preparing for the final [68] Farewell to Venice vengeance stroke. If the Filippucci had achieved all this what a triumph of villainy it was, although in Rome they had really bettered themselves very little! Somehow I had never credited the Filippucci theory of the Vatican crime, though how else to account for it I was at a loss to know. The Duke of Riletto we had never blamed, as he supposed he was pursuing the authors of his misfortunes. "Never," I often told my- self, "had there been, in all the sorry history of our land, a more lamentable tangle of intrigue and crime than that which involved my father and myself !" I now turned to Paolo. "The south calls me," said I, "will you aid me to go? "That I will," said he, "though it tears my heart, for I tell you plainly that I think you go to your death." "Would you not go were you in my place?" "I would not lose one hour save out of necessity." "I knew it. And now lend me your ready in- vention." For a considerable space no word was spoken, Cen- cio and I both watching Paolo, whose gaze was fixed upon the floor. Presently he glanced at me quickly. "Do you chance to know of a fleet barque that sails southward?" he inquired. [69] TDount Falcon of the Eyrie "I know of one that makes the port of Chioggia," I returned. "That will serve. I believe, then, I have it, though we must discover when the craft sails." "If we can get word to her owner, and I think we can, I am sure I can persuade him to send her south at any hour we may desire." "Capital ! Now listen. Last spring, at the fetes of May, fourteen of my friends and I engaged in gondola races upon the Grand Canal. We were garbed in cos- tumes that were identical save for color. Thirteen of these friends I will invite here on the evening of day after tomorrow, bidding them wear their carnival at- tire, and arranging that they shall all be prompt at a certain hour. You, Guido, shall have my suit; Cencio shall don Manolo's. There will be thirteen guests, and all will be provided with gondolas and expert gon- doliers. It shall be understood that my friends are to mingle a moment in the lower hallway, and then re- embark, you accompanying a certain one agreed upon, Cencio another. An instant later thirteen gondolas will be speeding toward the mouth of the Grand Canal. At a desirable point ten gondolas will drop behind and block pursuit, both by the main water-way and by side canals. Your gondola and the one containing Cencio, together with a third in case of an unforeseen accident, will hasten forward to the awaiting barque. On board [70] Farewell to Venice all can be in readiness for sailing, and once under head- way you can snap your fingers at Zarelli and his coils." "Bravo ! bravo !" I cried, while Cencio smiled his ap- proval. "It only remains now to arrange with Messer Nerli in regard to the craft. Niccolo had best manage that. Nerli will not then be an object of suspicion." Paolo insisted that Cencio should remain at the pal- ace, so I went below to consult with Niccolo. To this trusty friend, who was too discreet to ask questions, I explained my desires, and Messer Nerli I was certain would not fail me. The night of our venture came. There was a breeze blowing off the land, enough to fill a vessel's sails, and the sky was overcast. As the hour for my departure with Cencio drew near, Paolo and I were both silent. The past few weeks had deepened our feeling toward each other, and parting to both of us meant much. Fin- ally we embraced with low words of affection, and I hastily descended to the lower floor. The guests were arriving and mingling in the outer hallway. Suddenly the torches by the water-stairs were quenched. There was a hurry of feet and a swift pushing off of gon- dolas. Each boat was manned by two oarsmen, and Paolo's plan was carried out in every particular. The Grand Canal and the adjacent water-ways were [71J Count Falcon of the Eyrie blocked; the gondolas into which Cencio and I had been hurried, companioned by a third, dashed away in advance; we boarded Messer Nerli's barque off the little slip which he had named behind Isola di San Giorgio Maggiore, and were soon scurrying down the lagoon, the only star visible in the growing darkness of the night the red light dipping and rising at our ves- sel's mast-head. [72l CHAPTER VII The Brawl at Bologna REGRETFUL as I was to leave behind me so staunch a friend as Paolo, sorry as I was to quit the service of a state that, until within a few weeks, had always dealt by me with such open kindliness, an exultation leaped up in my heart to know that my face was set toward the ancient hold of the Falchi, and that at the journey's end my father waited, albeit he was not aware of my coming. A stern man he was, feared by many, not easily approached, wrap- ped in a cloud of grave reserve, yet his inner nature, which to me he frequently showed when no one was by, was one of surprising sunniness. He was large of frame, taller even than I, who was regarded by the Venetians as a person of great stature, and he had a mighty and arrogant pride of race which was tempered in me by a strain of softer blood. My mother, dead long ago, had come out of the south, and was of a won- drously happy nature. Indeed, in her young days, it was the marvel of the gossips how she could prefer my seemingly austere father to the more buoyant Duke of Riletto, who was an ardent suitor for her hand. Cer- [73] Count Falcon of the Eyrie tainly it was a matter of surprise and no small chagrin to the Duke himself, who, I fancied, though perhaps wrongfully, cherished a grudge against my father therefor. The master of Messer Nerli's boat seemed to have the eyes of a cat, for we shifted course abruptly sev- eral times during the first half hour of our voyage, then we came to anchor near one of the thickly-set sand-bars to await the rise of the moon. As soon as the gloom lessened we fared briskly southward again, and as the midnight chimes drifted down from one of Chioggia's church towers we ran into a little basin where Cencio and I followed Messer Nerli, who had insisted on accompanying us, ashore. Niccolo had told the ship owner that I was departing on an import- ant mission, and my former comrade at arms appeared to feel that it behooved him to do everything in his power to speed me on my way. This was most fortu- nate, for it enabled us to leave Chioggia that night mounted on two serviceable beasts, and dawn found us not kicking our heels about a Chioggio inn-yard, but riding briskly through the yellowing autumnal land toward Ferrara and Bologna. After a consultation with Cencio, I came to the con- clusion that it would be wiser to journey by way of Florence and the valley of the Arno rather than by either the route he had taken, or by the Furlo Pass. [74] The Brawl at Bologna Bands of mercenaries turned bandits at this period were frequently encountered, and while I had not a vast treasure to lose, what I did possess would be of great use at the Eyrie, and I had neither intention nor desire to part with it. The dominion of the Florentines was just then the most peaceable portion of the penin- sula, hence my decision in favor of passing through it. But plan as we will how little we know one day what course we will ultimately pursue upon the next ! We gained the Porta di Aposa at Bologna at high noon, thirsty, hungry and weary. At this city under the shadow of the Apennines we had made up our minds to refresh ourselves and our steeds, and to rest until night-fall, for we had ridden hard and fared scantily. To my surprise there were two sets of guards at the gate-way, and both parties looked upon us with evident suspicion. They allowed us to enter, however, without demur, and when I inquired for a good hostelry one guardsman was gracious enough to give me explicit directions in regard to finding the Inn of King Enzio, which, he declared, was the best in the city. Another guardsman, of different garb, imme- diately fell to flouting this tavern, and began praising one adjoining, so that in the end the twain well-nigh came to blows. The result was that we chose neither of the two recommended, but a quiet place, the Sign of the Mulberry, in the Via San Petronio, not far from [75] Count Falcon of the Eyrie the great church of that name. The strange air of suspense that pervaded every street through which we passed impressed us deeply. Many of the shops were closed. Citizens regarded one another with uncon- cealed scorn, and us with almost universal distrust. When mine host of the Mulberry came forth to greet us in the stable-yard there was a surprised query in the obeisance he made us. "What ails your good city, landlord?" I demanded. "Every man glowers upon his neighbor as though he suspected him of bearing the Black Death beneath his cloak!" "You have come to Bologna at an ill time, Signori," the tavern-keeper returned ; "and though it is my busi- ness to entertain travelers, which I endeavor to do as well as my instincts permit m,e, I would not advise you to tarry long within our gates." "ATessere is certainly frank," said I, "and I thank him for his kindly warning. Will he deign a word of explanation?" * "It is the old feud, Signori, between the Canetoli and the Bentivogli. For days we have expected an outbreak, and it may come at any moment. Bologna is hardly a healthy town for strangers when the slum- bering fires of hate burst forth." Tales of the excesses which the Bolognese committed when the madness of faction seized them bad come to [76] The Brawl at Bologna my ears, — excesses which far exceeded aught that I had witnessed in Rome, or had heard related concern- ing the most sanguine street combats there. "We will at least risk eating with you," said I, as I dismounted, "and, in the meanwhile, let our horses be well fed." "You shall be served at once," said the inn-keeper, as we followed him into the common-room. It was a most excellent repast that we sat down to at the Sign of the Mulberry, and I was sorely tempted to hazard remaining during the afternoon, for the place was cool and quiet, and of exemplary cleanliness. But on going to the hostelry doorway, and beholding a band of pikemen marching across the Piazza of San Petronio (the only folk in sight when ordinarily the square would have been busy with trade) I understood that to remain would be to court danger. Having discharged our reckoning, I called for our horses and prepared to mount, while the inn-keeper came and stood by us. He had proved so exceedingly friendly, and was so honest of face, that I made up my mind to inquire of him in regard to the safety of the road to Florence, requesting him in advance to say nothing of the fact that he had entertained two travel- ers like ourselves, should any one appear later on ask- ing questions concerning us. 1771 Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Florence !" he exclaimed, with a shake of the head, "I regret to tell you, Signori, that the way thither is. literally sown with broken detachments of a large body of discharged Florentine mercenaries who for several- days have been straggling into the city, and taking sides either with the Canetoli or the Bentivogli. If you must go to Florence it would be well for you to> seek that city by an indirect route unless you pine to be- plundered." "If it were not for your quarrelsome noblemen," I answered, "we should be in no haste to gain the Val d*^ Arno ; but since it seems best to proceed, we will bear in mind what you have said," and we rode forth into- the street. The inn-keeper followed far enough to direct us to- ward the south eastern gate, that being the one I now proposed seeking, and I flung my final thanks and fare- wells to him as we pricked forward. "Florence will have to be given up," I said to Cencio. as we entered the Piazza of San Petronio. Scarcely had the iron-shod hoofs of our horses grit- ted upon the stones of the square when forth from a narrow street upon our left plunged a gray-bearded man crying out in terror or anguish. Half a dozen paces behind him darted two youths with drawn blades. Presently the pursued began to sway and stumble. One of the youths slashed at him, and down he went to [78] The Brawl at Bologna be speedily impaled by the other. Then there was the clatter of opening shutters, and the shrill wail of a wo- man for vengeance thrilled across the piazza. Out from beneath one of the arcades dashed the pikemen I had noted when gazing from the inn doorway, and charged down upon the youths who retreated, pealing, as they ran, the call of the Bentivogli. Suddenly it seemed as though the whole city rang with the names of the two factions, yet the streets remained for the most part deserted as we spurred onward. Each side was loth to try the strength of the other, and the armed bands of the various leaders hung back till the word should be given which would mean a general revel of pillage and butchery. Could we gain the Porta San Stefano before a sanguine struggle which might engulf us should be precipitated ? Without occurrence we won to the Leaning Towers, which seemed to reel and threaten above us in the hazy gold of the sky, and then to the entrance to the Via San Stefano. Here there rose a furious shout, and we turned to behold a rider who charged hot-footed after us. His horse was flecked with foam, and his sword was unsheathed. We reined close to the wall to allow him to pass, but he pulled up violently just be- hind us, throwing swift glances from side to side. Out from the porch of San Bartolommeo poured half a score of ruffians wearing the colors of the Canetoli, [79] Count Falcon of the Eyrie and as they broke toward the horseman I recognized him as one Antonio Risenda, a Bologonese who had at one time been a member of my company, a man whom I had been forced on several occasions to reprimand severely, and had finally managed to get transferred to another command. He now meant mischief, that was patent. Evidently he had become an agent of Zarelli, had somehow got upon my track, and proposed to take advantage of the feud to make an attack upon me. "Upon them!" he shouted, waving his sword at us, "they are cowardly Bentivogli who would flee the city." "Spurs !" I cried to Cencio, and away we sped. But as we gained the entrance to the Piazza della Mercan- zia I beheld that which filled me with dismay. Sud- denly, before us in the distance, into the Via Santa and into the Via San Stefano bands emerged and began hastening toward the piazza. There was no avenue of escape either to the right or to the left, while behind us howled Risenda and his crowd of cut-throats. "The church !" I shouted to Cencio ; "it is our only chance !" At the base of the Piazza della Mercanzia, which is almost triangular in shape, stands the strange combina- tion of sacred edifices which is known under the gen- eral name of San Stefano, — chapels, cloisters, crypts, and churches, all connected by doorways and passages. The place had aroused my curiosity when I passed [80] The Brawl at Bologna through Bologna six years previous on my way to Venice, and I recalled that there were at least two en- trances upon the piazza, and one upon the Via Santa. If we sought refuge in the church we should be obliged to desert our horses, but we might be able to elude our pursuers, and avoid participation in the melee which was about to take place, for the bands approaching up the Via Santa, on the left of the church, and the Via San Stefano, on the right, were plainly of different factions. We had cleared half the piazza when I cast a back- ward look, and was surprised to see how close upon us Risenda was riding, and how near to him were two fleet-footed partisans of the Canetoli. I flashed a glance at Cencio, and was pleased to note that he ap- peared no more concerned than as though he were fly- ing one of my father's falcons in the woods of Pino. "Assuredly," I told myself, "old Matteo's son is a most likely lad !" "Cencio," I said, pressing close to him, "there are three who are too near to us for comfort or safety. We must slacken pace in a moment, as we approach the church. Do you engage the two who are on foot until I have taken care of the horseman." The youth greeted my words with a swift smile of pleasure. [8i] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "The Signor Capitano shall see that the young men of Falco still know how to wield the sword," he replied, with a touch of pride. "Swerve to the right, as though seeking that en- trance to the church. I will bear to the left, then we will suddenly wheel upon them." Instantly we put this plan into execution. So little did those behind us anticipate such a course of action that they were thrown into a daze of confusion. They had leaped at the conclusion that we were bent solely on taking refuge in the church, and were unprepared for our assault. Cencio rode one of the runners down, and then springing lightly from his saddle, by a clever thrust in quarte pierced the second through the throat. I, on the other hand, having discovered that my oppon- ent wore a shirt of mail beneath his doublet, broke through his guard, and by a blow upon his steel cap hurled him to the ground where he lay groaning with a fractured hip. As he fell a bit of writing dropped from the slit which I had made in his doublet. Quit- ting my horse, I caught this up, and with a shout to Cencio darted toward the nearest entrance to San Stef- ano. The youth was hard after me as I gained the porch. From opposite sides of the piazza the rival bands were now advancing with pikes leveled and swords drawn. The partisans of the Canetoli who had joined Risenda in pursuit of us having witnessed the [82] The Brawl at Bologna fate of their comrades, made no effort to follow us further, but mingled with the ranks of their faction. I verily believe, had we so desired, we might have stood unharmed within the church porch and watched the conflict that presently surged to and fro through the Piazza della Mercanzia, but we had no such wish. By our quick and resolute seizure of opportunity, and an almost providential chance, we had escaped the storm that threatened to engulf us. We slipped into the church, and at the first altar we encountered, — I have no notion to what saint it was dedicated, — we offered a brief thanksgiving. Short it was, but never was prayer more sincere. We sprang along a passage, and emerged in a narrow chapel. Out of this we plunged into a second church, and then into a cloister. Next we found ourselves doubling on our tracks, and the din from without produced in both of us a momentary panic. Presently a third church opened to our view. Near by a priest was praying at the shrine of the Virgin. It was not an hour for scru- ples, or ceremony, or much parley. I stepped forward and touched the holy man upon the shoulder. "Father," I said. He raised to me a benignant face. "I crave your pardon for interrupting you, but we are two strangers who would escape from this bloody [83] Count Falcon of the Eyrie city. Will you direct us to the Via Santa ? We have sought refuge here from the brawl in the piazza, and sthe way is confusing." He rose without a word. "Come!" he exclaimed, striding before us. "It is of little aid one can be at these dreadful times. The small good I can do, I will do joyfully. My prayers can wait." Another passage and another church, and we were in the street we sought. The priest blessed us as we hurried cautiously out. "Turn to your right behind the cloister-gardens," he ■said, as we expressed our gratitu'de, "and you will find yourselves in the Via San Stefano. The city gate is Tiot far." Though we could see no one, we knew from the "Clash of arms and the babel of groans and shouts that very near the fighting was furious. When we gained the "bottom of the Via Santa, and turned, as the priest had bidden us, there were our horses, which had strayed from the scene of uproar and confusion, calmly crop- ping the leaves of a peach tree, the boughs of which drooped over a garden wall. As we beheld them we ut- tered an exclamation of triumph. Surely fortune was attendant upon us. To our saddles we swung recklessly. As it had been in the Via Santa, so it was here, not a soul was in view. Down upon the gate we bore at a gal- [84] The Brawl at Bologna lop, and lo, not a guard stepped out to detain us ! So away into the open country we raced exultant, while behind us from the feud-ridden city a dull murmur, ominous of fierce passion and tragic death, swelled and died on the brooding autumnal air. [85] CHAPTER VIII The Meeting in the Furlo Pass WHEN the sound of the frenzy that gripped Bologna had lapsed to what was but a far-off echo, I drew forth the writing which I had snatched from the pavement after my en- counter with Risen da, and scanned it. There was neither address nor signature. "By an unforseen piece of stratagem," it read, "he whom I sought, and whom I thought I had within my grip, has, for the time being, eluded me. I cannot be quite sure, but I believe he is making for the Eyrie. I shall know shortly. Should you have any commands for me you may entrust them to the man who delivers this missive. He is a dependable messenger." "Zarelli to his Grace of Riletto," I mused, and yet I icould not be absolutely sure that the writing was in- tended for the Duke. Puzzle as I would over the words, I could clutch upon no definite clue to lead me to their purposed destination. Now that the route by Florence was out of the ques- tion, and the danger of close pursuit from the north through the removal of Risenda rendered unlikely, we [86] The Meeting in the Furlo Pass concluded that the wisest course to pursue was to travel boldly by the Furlo Pass, although this would lead us- through the domain of the Duke of Riletto, and* through a section of country frequented by a notedi bandit. Yet we should not be obliged to enter the Duke's capital, and neither of us could see why a plainly-garbed Venetian gentleman and his attendant, ostensibly journeying southward into Calabria, should anywhere arouse the slightest suspicion, or draw the attention of those bent on acquiring booty. By Forli we fared, by Rimini, and by Pesaro, resting only so long as we must, then turning at Fano up the vale of the Metauro. The sky and sea were a perfect sapphire; the mountains a greenish gold that shaded toward their crests into amethyst. It was weather for dreams, for lying in the shadow of the oak or ilex or chestnut bough and listing to the low lutings of the wind. But such a life was not for me ; indeed it never had been. I had always known the strenuous side of existence save when, as a boy, I had roved the lovely al- leys of the gardens at Perli in Calabria. Whenever I had tarried at the Eyrie I had ever been engaged in some adventurous hunting expedition with the moun- taineers. Cencio was like me, and yet we were both sensibly touched by the loveliness of nature, and so, when, early one morning, we set out from Fossom- brone, and still beheld everywhere about us the same [87] Count Falcon of the Eyrie glory of earth and sky we could not do otherwise than remark upon it. Austere and grand grew the scenery as we advanced toward the summit of the pass, leaving Vespatian's tunnel behind, and the curious bridge of Cagli, and many a sheet of leaping water transmuted to gold by the sun, and many a precipitous slope turned to the shade of every conceivable precious gem by the same magic agency. At Cagli we paused to refresh ourselves, for the climb had been arduous; then, after plodding to the summit, we gave our horses rein, and down the upper valley of the Chiascio we went whirling. We heeded not the frequent roughness nor the steepness of the road ; we were drunk with the joy of motion. And as we were thus buoyed to the top of elation, Cencio riding at my flank, somewhere ahead, above the clatter made by the hoof-beats of our steeds, there rang out a sound like the angry music of meeting swords. "What's that?" cried I, with a sidelong glance at my companion. "Do you hear it?" "Assuredly, Signor Capitano," Cencio returned. " 'Tis the song of steel. This is the region where that sprightly gentleman, II Nero, plies his trade." "The brigand.!" I exclaimed, "and he is doubtless at this instant attacking some inoffensive travelers like ourselves. Let us bear a hand and thwart Signor Robber!" [88] The Meeting in the Furlo Pass "It would be a noble diversion, Signor Capitano !"" Now, more than ever, did I find Cencio a youth afterr my own heart. Neck and neck we flew downward', , rounded a spur of rock, and there in a little grassy ? amphitheater formed by a bend of the Chiascio, beheld' a very keen encounter in progress between fifteen or twenty brigands and the escort of two ladies consisting of about the same number of men as the assailing out- laws. The latter were pressing a very evident ad- vantage, and gradually forcing those whom they were striving either to kill or to capture to the edge of the precipitous stream bank. We raised no shout, but with clutched blades leaped our horses across the yielding sward which gave no premonitory sound of our coming. Right in amongst the brigands we spurred, slashing here and cutting there, and not until I had given two evil-faced fellows, a taste of my point did I voice the cry of — "A rescue! A rescue!" What an amazing effect the onslaught and the words had ! The robbers were astounded, dazed. The com- pany that they had been assailing rallied with spirit, and began to regain their lost ground. I heard the an- imated voice of a woman cheering them. In reply a tall brigand rasped out an infuriated yell, — a man whom, from his arrogant bearing and dark visage, I judged to be the chief of the band, — II Nero. [89] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Hell, and a million furies !" shrieked he, "will you let these lisping court idlers best you, men of the moun- tains!" "The core of the whole matter," thought I, "is in somehow putting a quietus upon that fierce individual," so when he pushed forward I met him. Like will-o'-the-wisp fires the sparks flew, then most unexpectedly to me, and likewise to him, judging from the expression upon his face, snap went his blade at the hilt. I saw he looked for no mercy, and indeed he de- served none, being a great villain, but I raised my sword and saluted him as though I had been fencing according to the code. "Call off your men," said I. He obeyed. "Do not be too magnanimous," he remarked, as if he now surmised that I meant to let him go unscathed ; *'I cannot quit fighting. It is in the blood." "Then practice it in a decent cause," said I. He shrugged his shoulders. "The whole thing is a matter of selfishness!" he cried. "I challenge you to deny it! Look you from one end of Italy to the other !" I had to acknowledge inwardly that there was a deal of truth in what he stated. His speech was that of a gentleman, now that the rage of fight had left him. It [90] The Meeting in the Furlo Pass flashed upon me that he might be a wronged man like myself. "There are at least the infidels," I answered, "and Venice will be fitting out another armament within a month." He made me an inscrutable bow. "At least," he said, "the Furlo Pass shall see me no more." Erect, uncowed, he turned up a side road that here descended from Gubbio. His followers filed after him, and I wheeled to find myself confronted by one of the women whom Cencio and I had been the means of res- cuing from an awkward predicament. There was a blended softness and imperiousness in her beautiful face from which her riding mask had fal- len. Her hair, a shade of deep brown, with here and there a ripple that caught in a curious manner a red- dish amber from the sun, had partially escaped confine- ment and lay in a coil upon one shoulder. In an un- gloved hand she held a rapier. Her other hand, which was gloved, gripped the reins not of a palfrey, but of a spirited steed. She fixed upon me a searching glance, yet kindly, from her large and expressive gray eyes. "I do not know which to do first, Signore," she said, "thank you for your bravery and our timely deliver- [91] Count Falcon of the Eyrie ance, or chide you for allowing yonder brigand to de- part unchastised." "Signorina," I said, for, despite a certain masterli- ness and freedom of action, I took her to be unmarried, "had I deferred the matter to you, — as no doubt I should have done, — " this I interjected, for I realized she was a personage, "would you have bidden me kill an unarmed man, though he were an outlaw ?" "Nay," answered she, with a sweet touch of woman- liness, "I would not, though I do not doubt it would have been meting out to him his deserts, and I believe it is what most men would have done." I swept her a bow at what I took to be a compliment. "Let us say no more of the brigands," she continued, "we are well rid of them. Pray accept my deepest per- sonal gratitude, and that of us all," and she included the company in her glance, "for your fearless exertions in our behalf, and likewise for the efforts of the youth who companions you." "We were growing very dull," said I. "I think we should, in turn, thank you for giving us the opportun- ity to banish our ennui." "How about the brigands?" "Well, now that they have disappeared, and no one appears to be much harmed, I will include them in our thanks." Thereat we both laughed. [92] The Meeting in the Furlo Pass "Do help me with my hair, Contessa!" she now ex- claimed, addressing the woman near her who still showed signs of recent perturbation. When her locks were arranged to her satisfaction, my interlocutor again turned to me. "Our paths must lie in the same direction, Signore," she said. "Will you not ride with me, and let me know to whom I am indebted ?" It was an invitation, and yet from the manner in which the words were spoken I knew instinctively that the person who uttered them was accustomed to command. "I need not tell you, Signorina," I replied, "that it would give me very real pleasure to accompany you. I am called," I said, as our horses fell into step, "Guido Riparto." She was silent, and I fancied she was waiting for me to add from whence I came, but I did not choose to do so. Finally she hazarded: "Signor Riparto comes from Venice?" "Yes; how did you guess?" "You spoke of Venice to the brigand." "Ah, to be sure!" "And Signor Riparto is a soldier ?" "You are right again, Signorina."' "You do not ask how I guessed that !" and her eyes swept my figure, resting for an instant upon my bronz- [93] Count Falcon of the Eyrie ed face in a manner which showed me her mind was quick to measure men. Then she began questioning me concerning the cam- paigns in which I had been engaged, and finally divulg- ed the fact that she had been the guest, the year prev- ious, of one of the great families in Venice at a time when I had been absent at the wars. Paolo she knew, and burst into a merry laugh when I mentioned him, declaring that she now recalled having heard of me as the one man with whom he had never quarrelled. I must confess that we got on famously. All the gallan- try of youth came back to me in a way for which I could not account. My companion dropped a certain reserve and haughtiness as the afternoon wore away, and for a little I really forgot myself in the society of one who had not only beauty of face and form, and charm of manner, but also a mind richly filled with knowledge,^ a mind which was the harborage of fair ideals. She could be light, grave, piquant, whimsical and earnest by turns, and if her personality took strong hold on me, who can wonder? Few were the women that I had encountered during my Venetian life, and never had I been thrown into contact with a woman like this. My acquaintances of Roman days had naught in common with her, and even Paolo's sister, sweet as she was, was far inferior in nobility and breadth of character to her with whom I was riding. [94] The Meeting in the Furlo Pass "Your destination, like mine, I presume," I said, "at least for the night," and I waved my hand, with some- thing akin to a sigh, to the towers of Norcera rising be- low us. My companion assented, and we passed downward in silence. Was I to gain no clue to the identity of this fascinating maiden? Much I queried upon this point as we drew near the eastern gateway of the town. Once I had heard the woman who accompanied her address her as Elisabetta, but I had not the slight- est notion from whence she came nor who she might be, and I feared I was little likely to be any the wiser. Descending the streets of Nocera, we approached a large palace, and toward the entrance to the courtyard of this my lady reined. "Here is our refuge," she said. "Addio, Signorina," I responded, leaning from my saddle, catching her hand, and lifting it to my lips. She flashed upon me a smile, and I thrilled to see that there was no displeasure in her face. "Ah, but there are many paths about the world, Sig- nore, and most of them meet." "At Rome?" I suggested. Did she signify affirmation, or was it fancy? With bared head I watched her disappear, then I rode down the street with Cencio. [95] Count Falcon of the Dyrie We found a comfortable inn beneath the shadow of the cathedral where, after we had supped, I discovered by casual inquiry that the palace where my lady had stopped belonged to the Count of Gandolfo, a great friend and supporter of the Duke of Riletto. This, in reality, told me nothing, but somehow I was pained to find that my companion of the afternoon was in any way connected with a man who was intimate with one of the greatest enemies of our house. Several times that evening I passed the Gandolfo palace, and saw the flashing of innumerable lights from sconces and lustres, and heard song and laughter mingled with the ebb and flood of dancing music. Then I went up to my little inn room with a stolid face, undressed myself, said a prayer, stretched out with my face to the wall, and finally slept. The next morning at an early hour for Nocera, since few citizens were in the streets, Cencio and I mounted our horses. We were just leaving the inn door when I" heard my name spoken, and glancing down beheld a lackey at my stirrup. "For the Signor Riparto," he said, holding up to me a small parcel. His errand done, the man speedily took himself off. I unfastened the packet, marvelling from whom it could come, and what it could contain. In the center of the wrapping was a gold ring in which an opal of great [96] The Meeting in the Furlo Pass beauty was set. On a slip of parchment these words were written : — "A token of gratitude to a brave gentleman from Elisabetta Castelbarco." "God in heaven !" I cried, half aloud, "the Duke of Riletto's daughter !" [97] L CHAPTER IX The Old Falcon 4 i "Y" OVE your enemies !" I mused, as I slipped the ring upon my finger. "Well, if I do not already, I could very easily come to that pass in this case! I am sure I should see a smile wrinkle about my father's eyes if he knew of the incident, and I am likewise sure the Duke's face would grow as black as midnight on the sea if the personality of his daughter's rescuer was revealed to him; and as for La Bella Illustrissima herself, the toast of many a •courtier, I can fancy the scorn upon her lovely brow should she come into a knowledge of the truth." Somehow the ring, despite the evil legend of the stone, was to me a portent of good. Very gaily we Tode through the morning away from Nocera. I might never set eyes upon Elisabetta Castelbarco again; in all likelihood I should not, and yet the fact that I could dream a fair day-dream of her told me that youth was still with me, and the lure of hope not yet gone. And so we hastened southward, leaving Foligno and Spoleto behind, and coming late in the afternoon of the second day to the crest of II Dente from which we could see [98] The Old Falcon the highest turret of the Eyrie, and fluttering from it the banner of the Falchi, the twin falcons with their wings outspread. We had left our horses in trusty- hands at Clivo, and were going forward warily on foot. Between us and the Eyrie lay the dark wood of Pino where, so Cencio said, the men of the Duke kept continuous watch that they might seize upon any one venturing forth from, or attempting to reach, the stronghold. Upon the wood the castle looked down from a sheer cliff that rose twice the height of the tall- est tree, so it must have sorely puzzled the brains of the beseigers to conceive how either exit or entrance was possible there. On the farther side, and for the most part in the rear, was the deep and gloomy gorge of the Acqua Nera, making the ancient hold apparently inac- cessible from both those quarters. In front the ground sloped, albeit abruptly, and in the valley, at the base of the slope, lay the town of Falco. It was up this strip of abruptly rising land that the roadway to the castle led, and it was from this side, although there was a deep, dry moat, that the only practicable operations against the Eyrie could be conducted. In the rear, however, where far below surged and seethed the Acqua Nera, a second place of egress and ingress was to be found. Though the rocks showed a smooth face for a con- siderable height above the spume and black eddy of the water, they then became broken into huge jagged [99] Count Falcon of the Dyrie masses among which, rooted in the gaping clefts, grew a number of stunted pines. One of the largest of these trees concealed the entrance to a cavern, and from a l)lind postern, cunningly shadowed by an abutment, narrow steps, so cut that they were visible from no point save the postern itself, descended to the mouth of the cave. In a small gorge, tributary to that of the Acqua Nera, was hidden the lower mouth of this pas- sage among the crags. I had never been aware of its existence until the night following my flight from Rome when I had been led through it to the castle by Matteo, the castellan, in whose keeping and in that of my father the secret of the place reposed. From gen- eration to generation the knowledge of the whereabouts of the passage and the means of reaching it had been jealously guarded by the head of the family and the castle warder. Never before had there been necessity for admitting more than three or four to the secret. Only in times of great stress had it been used, and while rumors of its existence were current, so skillful had been the workmen who fashioned the way of out- going and incoming no trace of the portal, or that which guided to it, had ever been detected by the keen- est or most prying eye. Below the crest of II Dente, Cencio and I cowered like hares in a spruce thicket until the glowing embers ■of the sunset had turned ashen, and night had invaded [I GO] The Old Falcon the aisles of the wood of Pino, then we began to de- scend, bending a little to the west. Cautiously we went, slipping from bole to bole, never erect, always alert, and so it was, seeing no one, that we came to the brink of the little gorge at the bottom of which was the castle-leading cavern. I could never have found the entrance even by day, but Cencio crept to it unerringly in the darkness. "I have been the one," said he, "to go backward and forward by this route on errands to the monks of Pino, and I could traverse the place blindfolded." He warned me of pools, of bowlders, of fallen trees that stretched across the path, and finally drew me into what I knew was under-earth by the damp air upon my face, and the indescribable odor of mould. "Grip my arm," he said, "and when the passage grows narrow I will apprize you." The ascent was sharp and somewhat long. Then the wind touched our brows again, and far below sounded the dash of the Acqua Nera. Soon the walls of the Eyrie were hard at hand. Cencio pressed against the battlement, and two stones swung inward. We slipped through the open space, and found our- selves in an obscure corner of the courtyard. Having closed the secret postern, side by side we sought the en- trance to the great hall. As we approached the steps a tall figure came forth, caught a flambeau from its [lOl] Count Falcon of the Eyrie rest, and flashed it above us. It was Matteo, the cas- tellan, huge and grizzled, a veritable rock of dependance. "Mother of God!" he cried, when he saw me, "but it is the Signor Conte at last !" "Did you think I would not come when I heard the tidings ?" I demanded, as he descended. "I knew not whether Cencio would find you; and the dangers by the way, — I realize that they must have multiplied. But here you are," and he smiled his sat- isfaction, "and there is one within who will take heart again when he looks on you, though he may at first fall into a rage because we have let you know the truth." "How is he, the dear father?" "Better ! better ! though to us he will rarely own it. He has cast away the crutch, and uses but a cane." "And the case without?" "Is much the same. There was one frontal attack, — an attempt to bridge the moat, and scale the wall by ladders, which we easily repulsed. Since then the Duke's forces have contented themselves with encom- passing us, as they believe, and endeavoring to starve tis into submission." "And the provisions?" I inquired. "Cencio said it was likely the gnawings of want would have begun to plague you ere this, and that he had heard my father's treasury was growing scant." [102] The Old Falcoir "That is true. We have depended much upon the granaries of the monks of Pino, but while they give without recompense to the poor, from the rich they de- mand payment. We have still, however, the ancient services of plate which the Illustrissimo, your father, is ready to sacrifice when the final need comes." "I have that which will delay such a need for a con- siderable time," I asserted, glad that no false sense of pride had prevented me from accepting the reward for faithfulness tendered me by the Venetians. I had the valuables, too, which I had withdrawn from the bank in Venice, — rings and trinkets which had fallen to me as my share of the plunder from the sack of a town in the Morea in an expedition preceding the last. We now entered the great hall where we found Fra; Francesco conning his breviary. What a saintly glow his old face took at the sight of me ; and I knew that the cause of the radiance was the thought of the comfort and happiness my coming would bring to my father. "Where is he?" I asked. "In the south room," Fra Francesco made answer.. "That is his favorite resting place now," and he moved toward the closed door, leaving Cencio and Matteo to- gether. Fra Francesco raised the latch, and motioned for me to pass in. [103] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "A visitor, Excellency," he said, silently shutting the great oaken barrier. I could not look upon my father's face, for he sat gazing upon the crackling pine boughs which had been lighted in the huge fireplace, the night having de- scended crisp and chill. A lustre which held several candles stood upon a table at his right whereupon his hand and lower arm rested, his fingers clasping a piece of writing which I afterward found to be my last letter to him. "A visitor?" he queried, in a kind of dull surprise, not shifting his position. "Yes," I said, rather softly. He started forward in his chair, not swaying his body, only turning his head as though to catch more clearly the words that fell from my lips. "Whose voice was that ?" he demanded, not in his imperious way, but with intense emotion, as though there were a choking in his throat. "You used long ago to know it right well, for it was wont to break in upon you at all hours, even when you were busy over grave affairs, and then the intruder would be sent packing." I could see him shaking all over as he strove to rise, and the sight of him thus enfeebled moved me more strongly than I had ever been moved before. I sprang to his side and slipped my arm about him. [104] The Old Falcon "Lean upon me, father," said I, "I have heard of your wound." I felt his weight heavily for an instant, then he straightened himself. He took me by the shoulders, gazed upon my face, kissed me on both cheeks, and then bade me stand out where he could regard me from head to foot. I did as he desired, scanning him intently the while. He had aged greatly. He was thin and somewhat stooped, and his hair, which when I last saw him had no tinge of gray, was half white. "By the sword-hand of Gabriel!" he exclaimed, when he had scrutinized me well, "you are one of the old brood of the Eyrie ! I should hesitate to test your arm, even if I had my strength. Accursed wound!"' and he glanced at his shrunken figure. "I will cure it, father!" I cried. "I have brought. with me a most notable balsam." "Ah," he ejaculated hotly, anger leaping into his- look, as he now realized that, against his commands, I must have been told of his condition, "they must drag you down here into the maw of death because I have a small cut that hectors me, and there are a few dogs of the Duke baying about! Where are they, — Mattea and the priest? It is their doing! It could not have been the boy uninstructed. By the blood of Christ, let me tell them what I think of them !" [105] Count Falcon of the Eyrie He made a snatch for his cane, and took a long, pain- ful stride toward the door. "Father," I exclaimed, pleadingly, "before you say aught to Matteo and Fra Francesco, hearken how it was with me in Venice when Cencio arrived !" I coaxed him back to the chair, and then, crouched upon the wolfskin at his feet, his hand upon my hair, told him the tale of Zarelli's coming and of what fol- lowed, and of our departure and journey south, omit- ting not the episode of the Furlo Pass, and holding up to him Elisabetta's gift whereat, as I knew would be the case, he was all smiles till the wrinkles laughed about his eyes. "And so," he said musingly, when I had done, "Mi- chele Zarelli has enlisted with the enemy. I always wondered if he was in any way connected with the plot. Haply we shall know erelong." "And you will say naught to Matteo, or Fra Fran- cesco, or Cencio, concerning what they have brought about?" I entreated. "I was probably in greater dan- ger there than I am here." "I was wrong," he admitted, "to be angry with them. I believe it is through God's providence that you have come. If it only were not for the famine in the dis- trict ! True, there is grain to be had at the Certosa del Pino, but we are stripped of funds. We shall have to sacrifice the plate." [io6] The Old Falcon "Not while these last," said I, pouring out upon the table my roll of ducats and the Turkish plunder, which was really in itself a small ransom. "By the rood, Guido !" cried my father, with all his old fire, "bid Matteo send down to the cellar for the last flagon of wine ! We will triumph over our foes yet!" [107] T CHAPTER X At the Eyrie ii ^ m 1^ HERE is much that I would say to you, Guido, touching our misfortunes," my father remarked, as we sat over the wine, "but it had best wait until the morrow. You need rest, and that of which I shall speak to you will hardly induce slumber." So, according to my father's wish, we talked chiefly of my Venetian life, of my campaigns, of my friends, of all that passes in the bright city of the lagoons where my father had once been the guest of the nobleman to whom I had borne letters. By and by, when the hour was hard on midnight, Fra Francesco tapped softly upon the door, and en- tered cautiously, evidently expecting to be severely rated for the part he had played in bringing me thither. He found my father all smiles, however, and so ven- tured to suggest in his capacity as physician, both of the soul and of the body, that it was high time for a convalescent to retire. He was so much astonished to meet with no opposi- tion that he well-nigh forgot to say a prayer, bvit, re- [io8] At the Eyrie covering himself, had no recourse to a book of devo- tion, but improvised most feehngly. After we had re- sponded "amen" I took Matteo's place, and with Fra Francesco cared for my father's wound, and got him comfortably settled for the night. Then I kissed him as he was wont to kiss me when I was a boy, and left him with a word of happy cheer. In the great hall was Cencio awaiting me with a lighted taper. Up the stairway into the south tower I followed him to my old room where he wished me a favorable dream, accord- ing to the custom of the Eyrie folk when one returns after a long absence, and then descended. In the center of the room I stood and gazed about. Everything was as I had left it the summer before the great crime when I had spent most of my time at the Eyrie. There hung my lute, most of the strings now snapped; there, in one corner, stood my cross-bow; there was a shirt of light mail I had sometimes worn when participating in fencing bouts in the court ; and under a great curtain were doublet and hose and cloak, moth-riddled all of them, but otherwise untouched. And I thought hovvr like a moving panorama were the passing days of all the years. I slept well, and the sun had penetrated deep into the gorge of the Acqua Nera before I swung open the tiny casement, and, by craning my head, looked down upon Falco. Floating over the walls in several places [109] Count Falcon of the Eyrie I could see the dark red standards of the Duke of Ri- letto, and half way between the town and the castle I could discern the peaks of a number of tents where our besiegers doubtless had an outpost. I found Fra Francesco and Matteo in the hall below, and presently my father came out from his room. When I went to greet him I noted that he showed much less the marks of age than he had the evening before, and hence was vastly heartened. Cencio served us, and a very cheery little group we were. After we had breakfasted, the garrison, with the exception of a few guards, was summoned, — stalwart fellows of the moun- tain valley whose sires had served my sires for centuries. I will not record my father's exact words to them, for that were impossible. I only caught the drift of what he said. He spoke to the men of their devotion to him, of his gratitude to them, of his love for them, how he ever endeavored to deal by them justly as their feudal over-lord. Then he referred to me, and my story, which they all knew. He begged that they would give to me the same fealty which they had always given to him, for they would find me ever ready to defend our mutual rights. He referred to my campaigns against the Turks under the Venetians, of my experience in warfare, and asked them to accept any suggestions I might make in a kindly spirit. And finally he stated that, owing to my generosity, full ra- [no] At the Byrie tions and wine would again be dealt out as soon as communication could be had with the Certosa del Pino. Then, for it seemed incumbent upon me to do so, I spoke briefly, in the main, of my hope to clear the name of Falchi, and to bring peace, prosperity and hap- piness back to the valley. At the conclusion of all this talk there was a ringing cheer from the men, who then retired to their several duties, while Matteo took me with him to inspect the ramparts. He showed me where the assault had been made, and where he thought the Duke's forces might possibly try to attack from a tower erected without the battlements. Having consulted with me concerning the means of repelling such an assault, and also having questioned me in regard to the growing use of gun- powder (the besiegers had two ineffectual falconets and a few poor arquebuses), he left me to occupy my- self as I might choose. My father's reference to a desire for a serious talk with me concerning our misfortunes had been the last thing I dwelt upon before I slept, and the first thing that occupied my thoughts that morning, so I now made haste to seek him. I discovered him upon a seat in a sunny corner of the battlements where no stray bolt from an arbelest could strike him, thumbing med- itatively a copy of Virgil, a poet to whom he was much devoted, and whose finest passages he could roll out [III] Count Falcon of the Eyrie quite as effectively as any priest could chant the fer- vors of the mass. This I say wittingly, though some may deem it blasphemy. I cast myself down at my father's side with a smile. "Matteo says that we are as safe as though we occu- pied a stronghold a thousand courses high perched upon an inaccessible rock beyond the pillars of Her- cules. What says Messer Virgilio?" "Many things indirectly against being over-confi- dent; yet while, as you know, I could never disagree with M. Virgilio, I have much respect for the opinion of our worthy castellan." I was well aware that my father would prefer to ap- proach what he desired to tell me in his own way, and so put to him no questions concerning what it might be. "Safe we doubtless are, perhaps for an indefinite per- iod," he presently went on; "indeed, I may say I am safer then I have been at any time during the past three or four years, since I cannot go abroad, and no one save those whom I know to be leal can have access to me. I have never told you, for it seemed to be quite unnecessary, that at least half a dozen times since the great crime in Rome, my life has been attempted, and that twice I have been seriously injured." I cried out in horrified amazement. "Yes," continued my father, "finally even the streets of Falco grew to be dangerous, for last spring, as I [112] At the Eyrie was passing homeward with my escort along the Via Castello, having ridden forth to return a cah upon the abbot of the Certosa del Pino, a package of tiles came hurtling from a roof, missed my head by a hand's breadth and crushed the skull of the horse which I be- strode. Then the men of Falco, who had long known some one wished to assassinate me, were animated with a sudden fury, surrounded the house whence the tiles fell, caught the wretch who had been at work upon the roof, and who somehow had failed to slip away, and stoned him to death in the streets. He had appeared in the town but the week before, and no one knew whence he came. This was the first instance where the person attempting my injury was actually captured. Since then I have not been molested." "But the attack of the Duke?" "That was sudden, and most disastrous, but per- fectly open." "Then am I to infer that you do not connect these various cowardly assaults upon you with the Duke of Riletto?" "What do you know of the Duke ?" "That he is a fierce hater, but, in the main, a just man." "Exactly. Well, all along, being acquainted with the Duke's character, and remembering to what he [113J Count Falcon of the Eyrie agreed at the time of my banishment, it has been diffi- cult for me to believe him the instigator of these per- sistent attempts at murder. And yet, who else could it be? I have repeatedly asked myself. The Filipucci had — you know our old theory — succeeded in driving us from Rome, in practically ruining us. What object could they have in putting me out of existence ? Time wore away, and a number of months after the occur- rence in the streets of Falco I had word of your uncle's intended visit. Once a year, during the sum- mer-tide, as you recall, he has been wont to tarry a few weeks with me, and until his last coming I had taken great pleasure in his companionship. He brought a little of the busy, scheming world into my seclusion and quiet. But this time I noted almost immediately a change in him ; not in his appearance, for he looked just as he has for ten years, wondrously young and hand- some, but in his general manner, which was one of con- straint and reticence. Two or three times I surprised him gazing at me in a curious way. Once I asked him if he found me greatly altered from my old self, and his answer was a careless negative, and an odd, abrupt laugh. He spoke several times about the Pope's pre- carious health, expressing much anxiety, and, after considerable pondering, I attributed his abstracted and peculiar behaviour to the apparently disturbed condi- tion of his mind over the illness of his Holiness. [114J At the Eyrie "One matter, however, I could not quite satisfy my- self in regard to. I had given into your Uncle Gio- vanni's charge the management of the estates of Perli in Calabria, having been forbidden, as you recall, by the decree of banishment, to leave Falco. Soon after his arrival your uncle informed me that, owing to some disagreement in which he, as the Pope's councillor, had become involved with the King of Calabria, the mon- arch had arbitrarily seized upon the property. That is why our cofifers are so low. And now comes your news that Zarelli calls himself the Marquis of Perli ! "Something else chanced while Giovanni was here. He inclined to talk of you, and I naturally was pleased to report to him your good health, and the trust re- posed in you by the government which you served. He, of course, knew that I communicated with you, but I had never given him, or any one save Matteo, an ink- ling in regard to where you were. A statement, how- ever, which I made concerning naval battles led him to think you might be in Venice, and he lured me into a half admission that you were. I told him when we were accustomed to exchange letters, but did not reveal the name you had assumed." I gazed at my father aghast. "My God," I cried, "to what conclusion are you try- ing to lead me?" [115] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "To none ; but I am presenting to you an awful pos- sibility, one which I have been endeavoring to shut my -eyes upon ever since Giovanni's visit." For a long space neither of us spoke. "Your uncle," said my father at length, "betrayed a new interest in the castle during his last tarry at the Eyrie. I found him frequently upon the ramparts, and he jested with me in regard to a tale he recalled ■having heard in boyhood about a secret passage. It was as though he desired that I should tell him if I knew of the existence of one. Of course I turned the matter off with a shrug and a smile." I rose, and began pacing up and down. I could not te still. My uncle Giovanni, whom my father had ai- rways idealized, the Cardinal Orrabelli, pointed to as the tnost devout of churchmen, he whom I had looked upon :as well-nigh immaculate, the conceiver and carrier out of this heinous plot against his nephew and brother! Incredible ! Had he not done everything in his power at the time of the crime to aid us ? Had he not always been anxious to trace the conspiracy to its source? True, he had never effected aught, and we had only his own reports of his strenuous efforts to clear us. Such treachery as my father's words had suggested to me was almost beyond belief, and yet — With my father out of the way, and with me re- moved from his path, my uncle would be Prince Orra- [ii6] At the Byrie belli of Rome, much closer to the Papacy than now, and Ascanio, at present titleless, save by courtesy, would be Count Falcon. "How long after Uncle Giovanni departed did the Duke's men descend upon Falco?" I inquired. "About a week." "And the messengers?" "Were dispatched to Giovanni to demand through him from the Pope the reason for the Duke's attack, — the first as soon as we found ourselves besieged, the second six days later." "And you have heard naught from either of them ?" "Nothing whatever." "How do you account for their non-appearance?" "I have tried to in vain. They went in the garb of common mountaineers." "Did you tell Uncle Giovanni of the attempts on your life?" "Yes." "What was his attitude?" "He appeared to be shocked, and urged me to caution. He said he could not think that the Duke would have a hand in anything so dastardly, yet he could not conceive who else would have an object in such assaults." "Of course the messengers might both have met with accidents,— have fallen in with the Duke's retainers." [117] Count Falcon of the Eyrie '"Yes." "And it is possible that the Duke is a different man from what we take him to be." "It is possible." "And your notions in regard to Uncle Giovanni's manner, — might they not be imaginary?" "Y-e-s, perhaps." "And Zarelli's pursuit of Cencio, and discovery of any whereabouts, might not this have been caused by •other means than the treachery of my uncle ?" "Yes, in one other way, and but one so far as I know." "And that is—?" "Through Bembo, the huntsman, who used to he so devoted to you. I had him slightly dis- ciplined for laziness, and he took it ill. When Gio- vanni left he said the fellow had applied to enter his service, and if I had no objection he would give him employment, a proposal to which I readily agreed. Bembo might have known more than I fancied, have come into contact with Zarelli, and blabbed." "Bembo would have revealed naught wittingly, I know him too well. But be that as it may, I am going to Rome to sift this thing, even though I have not a friend in the city. Do not, I beg of you, attempt to dissuade me, nor say me nay. We have lived as exiles in the world's scorn long enough. I will die rather • [ii8] At the Eyrie than endure it further. I believe it would have beem unwise to move before, but now the time for action has- come." "You speak as I should expect my son to speak. When will you go?" "Not to-day. I must have time to meditate a little. The paper I showed you which I took from the -Bolog- nese might have been addressed either to the Duke or Uncle Giovanni, or indeed to another. Is it not so ?" "Yes ; that is perfectly true." As a wild animal that is caught in a cage, and goes striding from corner to corner, from bar to bar, in the hope of coming on some means of escape, so my mind leaped from one thing to another in search for a clue that should lead me out of this bewildering maze. Be- lieve that my uncle, and with him Ascanio, was respon- sible for all our sorrow and shame and suffering I could not, and yet in view of what my father had brought before me suspicion began pointing a ghastly finger toward them. Ascanio had been one of the last to pledge me a cup at the banquet on the fatal night. His room had been in the same corridor as mine, and just around the corner was a narrow stairway by which one could descend to the gardens of the Vatican. By this means Ascanio might have introduced the mur- derer, or he might have committed the dark deed him- self as easily as Enrico Baracano, a cousin to the Filip- [119] Count Falcon of the Eyrie pucci whom we had always suspected, a young man, who, like Ascanio and myself, was an officer in the Papal Guards, and one of the company at the banquet. I found it difficult to keep my grip on patience. What could I do, I asked myself, suppose by some means I should discover the murderer of the Pope's former secretary ? Attempt to prove the matter to the Duke of Riletto? Yes, assuredly that was an end to work toward. Make a friend of the Duke! If this could be accomplished our cause was won. I started up, breaking the silence which had again fallen between my father and myself. "I have decided," I said. "I will set out tomorrow night." [120] CHAPTER XT The Road to Rome BETWEEN the time of my decision and that or my setting forth I spent most of the hours with my father, and yet we did not confer much concerning my venture. We were fully agreed that I did not run any serious risk of discovery unless I came into open contact with those who formerly knew me well, and even then it seemed exceedingly doubtful if any of m}'- whilom friends would recognize me. My hair had darkened ; my figure was fuller ; my face had greatly matured; moreover, I was deeply bronzed by exposure u.pon land and sea. I was the last man in Christendom who would be expected to be seen in Rome, where my personality had been practi- cally forgotten, and the only recollection of me was that of an evil name. Behind the turrets of the Eyrie, and the crags of If Dente, blood-red the sun went westering on the day of my out-going. Cencio was to accompany me as far as some spot in the Campagna (which we resolved to- let chance determine) whence I was to pursue my way to the city alone, on horseback or on foot as at the last [121J Count Falcon of the Eyrie moment seemed best. At the edge of dusk I bade my father adieu. He gave voice to no forebodings in re- gard to the outcome of my expedition. Apparently in his mind the daj' was about to dawn that would see the head of the Orrabelli in the ascendant once more; — the day that would hear the tongue again ring out which had declared whether the Colonnas ruled, or whether the Orsini were dominant. He quite forgot that six years had elapsed since he had held the balance of power between the warring houses, and that he was, in the main, ignorant of the multitudinous happenings of this period. It was not a failing of his mental pow- ers, so I took it, this fancy, but a temporary illusion in- duced by my presence. After I had said my last word of farewell to my father, he handed me a ring which was the exact copy of one he always wore, a piece of deep red agate sunk in a band of gold, the blood-ring of the Falchi, which for centuries had been passed by the head of the house to his heir. The presentation of this ring, or its coun- terpart, to any member of the family, was a trouble- omen, and commanded the one to whom it was given, by all the sacred ties of kinship, to lend aid to the sender. "Should it at any time seem advisable to you, Guido," said my father, "either give this ring, or cause it to be given, to your Uncle Giovanni." [122] The Road to Rome "It shall be as you desire," said I. Cencio and I heard the postern close behind us, and then the waters of the Acqua Nera mouthed their vio- lent bass up to us through the gray evening shades. Speedily we were in the cavern and then out of it in the fir-wood, stealing forward with caution, losing no instant in our ascent of II Dente, and when this was compassed, plunging swiftly down into Clivo. This town had been piteously famine stricken, and it was woeful to witness, even by the wan taper and gusty flambeau flames, the scenes of privation and anguish where help was useless to think upon. We received our steeds from the farrier to whom we had entrusted them, and a few hours before dawn roused an inn-keeper of a little town of the Sabina who gave us two comfortable beds, and called us to a palatable breakfast before the sun was mid-morning high. Then we began a rapid descent into the Cam- pagna across which we passed by a series of paths which I had known too well of old to have forgotten. About half after two in the afternoon we arrived at a little hostelry on the Via Nomentana, perhaps two hours' ride from the city walls, and the Nomentana gate. Here I had made up my mind to part with Cencio, and to proceed on foot into the city, allowing the youth to take my steed back with him, as I saw from the num- [123] Count Falcon of the Eyrie ber of pilgrims that were coming and going, and from the slack attendance at the hostelry, that the animal might be stolen. Moreover, I had arrived at the con- clusion that a horse might be an encumbrance rather than an advantage in Rome. We had eaten nothing save some black bread and goat's cheese since our morning mountain fare, and I proposed to Cencio that before we departed, each upon his separate way, we test the landlord's viands and wine. Now it chanced that there was a good fire in the kitchen, and a plucked fowl caught my eye when I peered in, so, with a liberal fee in advance to put the host in good humor, I bade this be served, with some garnishings, as soon as might be. We were making fair way with the fowl, its accompaniments, and a bottle of country wine, when in rushed the landlord, forehead beaded with sweat, hands twitchy and mouth of a twitter. "Signori ! Signori !" he cried, "two riders have just spurred in on horses so flogged and roweled that they cannot move a step further. The men declare they must go forward, and demand animals. I have none, so they propose to appropriate yours." "Madre di Dio!" I exclaimed, on my feet in a twink- ling, my eating-knife relinquished for my sword, "not if they are the Emperor and his heir! Your mask, Cencio." [124] The Road to Rome When we had set forth from the Eyrie I had thought best to clothe Cencio hke myself. Two modestly- garbed gentlemen riding through the lonely and often robber-beset country which we were traversing were less in danger of molestation than a knight, armed cap- a-pie, with his servant. The wisdom of this move had several times been manifest. A greater part of the time we had proceeded in mask, and not only by vint- agers and herdsmen, but also by the pilgrims just then trooping toward Rome (we had encountered many as we fared southward from Venice, but I did not appre- ciate how broad a tide was setting toward the holy shrines until we descended into the Campagna) small heed had been paid to us. Cencio clapped on his mask, and I donned mine, as we bounded toward the doorway of the common-room. A short hallway took us to the stable-yard, and a few steps more enabled us to reach the gateway. In the center of the yard, mounted upon our horses, were two men. One of them was just handing a purse to an hostler. "There is triple the amount your beasts are worth, Signori," said the man who was bestowing the money, on beholding us, "and here is my apology. We travel on affairs of vital importance to the Patrimony of His Holiness., or I should not dream of seizing upon your property in this high-handed fashion. Show the Sig- [125] Count Falcon of the Eyrie nori the color of those ducats," he added, addressing the servant, "that they may know I am not cheating them." The hostler was about to do as commanded when I stayed him, "Return the money to the Signore," I said, with short firmness. "We wish none of it." I had recognized the spokesman of the two strangers at a glance, though both were masked like Cencio and myself. The way he held himself, the peculiar hard ring of his voice, and the unusual coloring of that part of his face visible below his mask, were not to be mis- taken. The man was Michele Zarelli, and he was mounted upon my steed. Who we were he evidently, as yet, had no inkling. "I have no desire to play the robber," said he, briefly. "Once more I offer you the money, Signori." "Our business presses, as much as yours," said I, "and I repeat, once and for all, that we decline to deal with you. You will oblige us by descending imme- diately from our horses." Zarelli gave a grim laugh. "I have striven to be fair," said he, "and you refuse to accept triple the value of your animals. So be it." He snatched the bag of ducats from the hostler, said a low word to his companion, then both roweled [126] The Road to Rome our horses and rode straight at us. Now Cencio and I had trained our beasts to hah instantly at a certain word, so we raised our swords as they came on, shrill- ing out "Hold !" and calling each of them by name. Upon their hind legs they reared, pawing the air, and shocking so violently together that Zarelli was half unseated. I dragged him out of the saddle in a trice, threw him flat upon his back and held my point at his throat. My mortal enemy was wholly at my mercy. Why did I not drive the steel home ! Because an agile thought, springing from the void whence comes all mortal suggestion, stayed my hand. Far better had it been had I followed my first impulse! Cencio, alert and agile as a mountain-cat, during my encounter speedily disarmed Zarelli's companion and had him on his knees beseeching pity. The honest landlord caught our horses, and in the presence of a group of amazed pilgrims, who just at that moment rode up to the gate of the stable-yard, I issued hasty orders to the willing hostler. "Some rope !" I cried, "and truss me up these impu- dent fellows like so much hay." The varlet was a ready hand at such employment, and presently we had Zarelli and his comrade — a bravo evidently — fastened securely upon the back of my horse. Then I drew Cencio aside. [127] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Burn some candles to Our Lady in the chapel when you return," said I. "It must have been she who aided us." "The candles shall not be forgotten, Signor Cap- itano. I could swear some holy power strengthened my arm." I had to smile at this, for Cencio's arm was like a smoothly working lever of steel. "Look you," said I, "at the leading spirit of these twain," for Zarelli's mask had been stripped from his eyes. "Have you ever seen that face before ?" Cencio gazed, then shook his head. "It seems familiar," he returned, with a shudder, for Zarelli's visage was devilish, "and yet I cannot place it." "What of the yellow countenance that leaned over you that night on the sands of Rimini ?" "Immortal God, but it is the same!" "True; the very same!" "Then this is your enemy, the villain who has been hunting you down, the one before whom we have fled !" "No less." "Praises to all the saints! But why is he still Hving?" "I will explain presently. You will readily under- stand this much, — that it is of some importance that I should reach Rome before he sets foot there." [128] The Road to Rome "I should consider it a miracle should he ever tread the ways of the Capitoline again, Signor Capitano." Cencio's eyes were level with mine, and there was a light in them I knew well. Had I not seen it many a time in the heat of battle ? At a word, at a hint, from me this staunch young henchman of the Falchi would leave these men to the midnight mercies of the Cam- pagna wolves, or would speed them along the black journey by a swifter means. "My father," I said, "has certain rooms at the Eyrie, where, I am sure, he would be glad to entertain these two gentlemen. Could it be managed ?" "It would be easy," Cencio answered, "provided I could reach Clivo. The only danger would be from the roving robbers. They might be inquisitive should they chance upon me with such a train," and he pointed to my horse with its burden. "I will risk having you attempt it," I said. "Should I return from Rome with my mission unaccomplished, there are shrewd instruments of persuasion in the Eyrie dungeons that might incline one of our prisoners to aid us in acquiring knowledge of certain facts that are now blind." "I will use every precaution, Signor Capitano." "I trust you fully, Cencio. And now," I continued, handing him the bag of ducats which I had seized from Zarelli, "do you requite the landlord and his ser- [129] Count Falcon of the Eyrie vant for their kindness, and keep the remainder against your own need." My gallant young aide made haste to do my bid- ding; then, having mounted, he saluted me gravely. As the horses moved forward, Zarelli flung at me an awful curse to which I made no reply. "Oh, I know you," said he, "and no hell hereafter will hold half the torments you shall pass through be- fore you die." I was silent, while he continued to heap imprecations upon me as the pilgrims at the gateway parted, and Cencio and his charges passed between them, soon to be lost to view behind some thick myrtle bushes that half concealed the entrance to a deserted by-road. Reverting to my surroundings, I found the hostler was attending to the wants of the pilgrims, but the landlord, at a discreet distance, was awaiting my wishes. I gave him two pieces of gold in addition to what Cencio had bestowed. "Do you chance to know of a by-path leading hence to the Via Salaria and the Porta Pinciana ?" I inquired. "The Signore is most generous," he returned, with a suave obeisance. "Indeed, one so generous can but be discreet." "I have never betrayed a friend," said I, "and a friend you certainly have been." [130] The Road to Rome "If the Signore will follow me," he remarked sig- nificantly. I assented with a nod, and turning the corner of the stable we came upon a cluster of broken buildings — some of which were now used as a shelter for cattle — that had evidently once been the cloisters of a mon- astery. Threading our way through this ruin, we reached an opening in the westerly wall beyond which I discerned a clearly marked path. "If the Signore will follow this," declared the land- lord, indicating the byway, "in due time he will find himself in the Via Salaria, not far from the bridge over the Anio." "I can offer you nothing further," said I, "save my thanks, and the blessing of the saint who guards trav- ellers, but if times change with me you shall not be forgotten." "Our Lady attend the steps of the Signore!" So I took a tug at my belt, girt up my sword lest it should impede my steps, gripped my little bundle of necessaries, turned my back upon the Inn of the Clois- ter and its friendly host, and plunged westward toward the declining eye of the sun. [i3i[ CHAPTER XII I Encounter an Old Friend A MORE desolate waste than that which I was now traversing the imagination of man can- not picture. Even the radiant afternoon •glow gave to it no transient habit of cheer. It seemed iblasted by God's wrath. No one but the desperate •outlaws of the Campagna whose feet had fashioned the path I was following would have dared to visit that wilderness by night, for darkness must have lent to it iiorrors more gruesome than ever priest attributed to the ultimate depths of hell. Never once did a living creature save a gliding lizard meet my gaze. I skirted bogs where the water was as motionless as the glazed »eyes of the dead; I crossed ancient olive orchards where the remnants of the centuries-old trees appeared to be writhing in shapes of torture. Fearsome as the region was, awe rather than a sense of temerity urged «ne onward ; but more than awe a feeling of impending struggle with the mysterious forces that had blighted and embittered my life lent speed to my feet. In no particular did the words of the host of the Inn ■of the Cloister prove untrue, and with half a dozen pil- [132] I Encounter an Old Friend grims I passed into Rome at the Porta Pinciana just as the sun was dipping behind the hills flanking the bulk of St. Peter's. Once within the city, the pilgrims, all of whom were mounted, soon left me in the rear, and I strode with a hardly restrained buoyancy and exultation between half cultivated fields, where once the gardens of Sallust and LucuUus had flourished, down- ward toward the Via Flaminia. Along the highway I was now traversing I had frequently spurred, in the old days, for a morning gallop into the Campagna, and suddenly a bitterness and rage which had been a long time quiescent welled up, supplanting the elation in my breast. To think that the son of the Prince Orrabelli, whose ancestors had, time out of mind, stood to the forefront among the nobles of Rome, should be re- turning to the city that was still the soul, if not the head, of the civilized world, on foot like a hind ! But by the time I had reached the newly-rising walls of Santa Trinita dei Monti the anger and shame had vanished. I strode resolutely through the sparsely- built Via Trinitatis, crossed the Via Flaminia, crowded with pilgrims and citizens, and thence by the Via Post- ulara, and the Ponte di San Angelo (within the grim walls of the fortress commanding which I had passed one anguished night), won, before the close of dark- ness, to the quarter of the town called the Borgo. Here there was a great throng, pilgrims for the larger [133] Count Falcon of the Eyrie part, and the inns were packed, but finaUy at a quiet albergo, in the Borgo San Spirito, I obtained a httle apartment under the roof, and there, having first re- freshed myself at a frugal eating-place hard at hand, stretched myself upon my hard pallet that I might be able to make the most of the morrow. I was in Rome. Almost within carry of an arbalest bolt was that portion of the Vatican where I supposed my uncle still resided, and where I had lodged when on duty as an officer of the Papal Guards. It was with difficulty that I composed myself for sleep, but finally when slumber came to me there was no break in my rest until the radiant October dawn peered in at the dusty pane. Once awake, I bestirred myself after the fashion of a soldier who goes forth to do battle. A few slight changes in my garb of the day previous transformed me into a well-to-do native of some town of middle Italy, haply in the city upon business, or pos- sibly to view the holy celebration which was to term- inate that week. When I left the Borgo, and crossed the Tiber, the sun was well up. The booth-men in the Piazza di Ponte were crying their wares, and such was the press of folk held there out of curiosity, or a desire to chaf- fer, — sleek Spaniards, dapper Frenchmen, awkward Germans, men from every nook and corner of Italy, — that it was with some difficulty I elbowed through them [134J I Encounter an Old Friend into the Street of the Banks where the Florentines, the Sienese, and the agents of the merchant princes of Milan were doing a thriving business in money chang- ing. I caught at scraps of conversation that I might inform myself in regard to the gossip of the day, but got no news. I lounged through the lanes adjacent to the river shore as far as the now completed Ponte Sis- to, across which workmen were continually passing from the Travastere, but from the casual inquiries 1 ventured to put to them I drew small satisfaction. Close upon the hour following mid-day, I crossed the Campo di Fiore, where the chains upon a gibbet for the execution of malefactors gave an occasional dry clank in the soft sea breeze stealing inland from Ostia. Evading the ghastly object, I sought one of the en- trances of the Albergo del Sole, then the largest and most popular hostelry in Rome. This inn, although) built of massive blocks from the Theater of Pompey, was unattractive to look upon, but it was well kept, and'' patronized by many people of rank, the traveling no- bility as well as the native Romans. My arrival was unheeded, owing to the number of guests at their mid-day repast, and I slipped into a seat at a small table in one corner of the common-roomi without attracting the slightest attention. Two gen- tlemen from Mantua had previously had the place to themselves, and they went on with their talk and their [135] Count Falcon of the Eyrie meal, after having bestowed upon me a civil nod. Their chatter was wholly in regard to the health of the Pope, and whether his strength, which they understood had sensibly increased of late, was sufficient to allow him to participate in the Progress from the Vatican to San Giovanni in Laterano where the Host was to be raised, where Cardinal Lorenzetti was to address the pilgrims, and where a new saint was to be added to the calendar two days hence. Indeed this was the burden of the talk all about me, though it was occasionally in- terspersed with jests from the non-residents in regard to who had, and who had not, ascended the Sacred Stairs, how long it had taken them, and what was the condition of their knees when the ordeal was over. I will own that when I again sought the street it was with a feeling of acute disappointment. Ordinarily, I knew, there was political gossip in plenty to be heard in the thoroughfares, at the street corners and in the hos- teleries, but now nearly every person one encountered was a pilgrim, or was engrossed with sacred affairs that had already taken place or were about to do so. Chance must mould my course, and to me the face of the Goddess was veiled. Underneath all this inter- est in holy matters much that was secular and political was brewing. How was I to get in touch with it ? It must have been the middle of the afternoon be- fore I loitered into the Piazza Navona, and thence into [136] I Kncounter an Old Friend the Via Orrabelli. After my father had been dispose sessed, I knew that my home, the Palazzo Orrabelli, had been used as a haven of retirement by the Pbpe when he wished to escape from the noise and confusion of the Vatican, where building was constantly in prog- ress. Accordingly when I approached the palace I was not a little surprised to note the air of semi-gaiety that pervaded it. Two men in a livery which I did not recognize were standing like guards before the open gateway of the courtyard ; there was bustle within ; an(J many of the casement shutters were lifted. All this T took in at a glance, not deeming it wise to give the place any especial heed. A few paces beyond, where an alley-way joined the Via Orrabelli, I encountered a tradesman whose smiling face prompted me to address him. Having wished him a "good-day" with a friendly bow, I said : "I have not been in Rome for several years, and I recall that the palace yonder was usually kept for the most part closed. I suppose his Holiness must have guests of lofty rank from its present air of open cheer."" "You are a stranger," said the man, "so may not know the history of the palace." "I remember to have been told that it was once the home of the Prince Orrabelli." "Yes, and his Holiness has within the year restored' it to the family." [137] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "To the family?" "Yes, that is to the Cardinal, who, rumor has it, is soon to give it to his son, the Conte Ascanio." Here was news indeed. : I made some casual remark, thanked the tradesman, and walked on. The presentation of the Palazzo Or- rabelli to my uncle and the possibility of his transfer- ring it to Ascanio were the first items of information I had hit upon. Certainly naught of this had been re- ferred to by the Cardinal while on his visit to my father at the Eyrie. Pondering how I should further my knowledge of family affairs and matters of equally vital import, I wandered on, giving no particular notice to the direction which I was pursuing until I discov- ered that I was following the Via Flaminia, and was not very far from the old Flaminian gate. Between me and the city walls was a broad grass-grown space where a solitary chapel stood. On my left a church was in the process of erection, while on my right there were two houses, one ruinous, the other showing signs of occupation, and set between them an evidently well- patronized wine-shop. Across the fields toward the river, in the vicinity of the Mausoleum of Augustus, I marked the rapidly growing German quarter. While I was observing the structures in the last named vicinity, there rose a sudden clamor in the wine- shop, and, as I wheeled, out from the doorway shot a [138] I Encounter an Old Friend lean figure, hatless, a great rent in his doublet, his face a-smear with blood, close set upon by three knaves with bludgeons, while a group appeared grinning in the doorway, by their tipsy shouts urging on the bludgeon-wielders. Now a drunken street brawl was as little to my liking as was any kind of a riotous af- fray, but the man who fled was evidently wounded, and was, moreover, defenceless. I freed my sword arm from my cloak, drew my weapon softly, and, as pur- sued and pursuers came rushing on, stepped quietly be- tween them. "A word with you," said I to the three, who halted abruptly at the sight of my bare point. "Well, what is it ?" demanded one of the knaves. "Just the query why three brawny fellows like your- selves are endeavoring to belabor one unarmed man?" "He is a dog out of the mountains," returned a sec- ond of those confronting me, "and he dared to call us men of Rome cowards." I threw a quick side glance at the individual thus ac- cused, who instead of taking advantage of my inter- posal and making good his escape, was rooted in an at- titude of self-defence a step or two in the rear at my right, clutching a staff which some pilgrim had let fall, and he had snatched up from the street. Many a time since have I marvelled that I did not start, or show some indication of surprise, for that [139] Count Falcon of the Eyrie quick look told me that he, between whom and the knaves I had thrust myself, was Bembo, my father's former huntsman, the man who had taken umbrage at some punishment inflicted upon him at the Eyrie, and entered the service of my uncle. This old retainer, good at heart, was at times surly, obstinate and seem- ingly indolent. He had, however, idolized me in my youth, being a widower who had lost a son about my age. He it was who taught me to ride the mountain pathways, to chase the deer, and to shoot the arbalest. A task which he would not do without a dogged air for my father, he would do cheerfully for me, and in my heart I regarded this encounter a clear omen that the saints were with me. From Bembo, unless his feeling toward me had undergone an amazing change, during my exile in Venice, I felt sure, if I could but manage to get private speech with him, I should be able to extract facts that would lead to an ultimate knowl- edge of the truth. "It seems to me," I remarked, as with a slight smile I thrust my hand into my pocket and extracted three silver ducats, "that you have wounded the mountain- eer's head rather more than he has hurt your pride, and so you ought to be satisfied," and I tossed the knaves the money. "Your Excellency is evidently a man of great dis- cernment!" cried one of the fellows. "If the moun- [140] I Encounter an Old Friend taineer wishes to continue his argument he knows where to find us." Bembo began to dare any two of them to step out into the middle of the street with him at that moment, but I quieted him with a motion of my sword. "They are not worth your notice," I said, with a quiet voice, and then, drawing up my cloak so that it should half conceal my face, I bade him walk back with me toward the juncture of the Via Flaminia with the Via Trinitatis. "Are you much hurt?" I asked, presently, noting that he was trying to stay the flow of blood from his head with a kerchief which had been woven upon the looms of Falco. " 'Twas but a glancing blow, Signore," he returned, "but it dizzied me, and by this time I doubt not I should be lying by the roadside beaten to a pulp were it not for the Signore's timely interference. Will the Signore allow me to thank him? I am but a humble man, and I cannot in any way requite the service — " "How do you know ?" I interposed. Bembo stopped short, and began to gaze at me in- tently. Was there anything in my voice that had led him to guess my identity ? If so, I had no Avish to re- veal myself there, accordingly I spoke somewhat sharply. [HI] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Come !" I said, "let us walk on, and I should be glad to hear how the quarrel came about. You men of the mountains, I have been told, are hot-headed." "I beg to assure you, Signore, that it was a very trivial matter. They were prating, those knaves, of freedom, and jeering at me, saying that we of the mountains had always been slaves to somebody. Well, Signore, that was too much for my upland blood, and though I was one among ten, I told them that there was scarce a man in Rome to-day who was his own master, and that not one of those I saw before me had as much pluck in his whole body as Rienzi had in his little finger. Then ensued the fray, to which you so generously put a pause. It was crack-brained of me thus to lose my temper when I had no weapon by me, a piece of carelessness in which I can promise you I shall not again indulge." We had turned into the Via Trinitatis by this, and there was no wayfarer near. "I am proud of you, Bembo mio!" I exclaimed, drop- ping my cloak from my face, and giving a little, low laugh. Certainly he had not suspected who I was, for now he gazed upon me fixedly as though his eyes would pop out of his head ; then he began to shake like one with an ague, and finally he went down upon the ground and clasped me about the knees. [142] I Encounter an Old Friend "Holy Virgin ! it is my little Guido ! it is the Signor Conte!" was all that he could say, repeating it over and over. I was deeply moved by this manifestation of affec- tion, but fearing that some one might appear, and be- come curious at beholding so strange a scene, I touched my old instructor in the chase upon the shoulder. "You must rise, Bembo mio," said I. "Remember we are not in the quiet woods of Pino." "It is as the Signor Conte says !" exclaimed Bembo. springing to his feet, and glancing warily about. "Would to God we were !" "Why, I thought you were glad to leave the Eyrie !" "It is the same stupid, impatient dolt before you that you knew as a boy," said the huntsman regarding me affectionately. "Life grew sad there at Falco after those terrible happenings, and then the Illustrissimo (heaven protect him!) got so he would ride but little abroad, and small wonder, since some one was ever striking at him from a thicket, and then melting away into nothing as the snows do from II Dente in the spring. I was always alone at the stables and kennels in the town with the horses and the hounds, and im- patience and laziness grew upon me; then the Illustris- simo rebuked me, as he had good cause to do, and I, like a fool, — an old fool, — resented it, and caught at a [143] Count Falcon of the Eyrie chance to dwell in Rome. Christ knows how I have rued the day I came to this hell of intrigue ! But you, little Guido," he went on, his tone growing full of sud- den concern as he uttered the pet name he had been wont to apply to me when I played with him at hide- and-find in the castle court, or when he would carry me up the hill from Falco on his shoulder, "you are in death's very jaws here, and you must be aware of it." "In part," I answered. "They think you to be in some far city," said the huntsman. "Did they dream you here, there is no street corner in Rome that would not ring with your name and cries of reward for your capture." "They!" I echoed, "and who are they?" "Your uncle and your cousin, the Conte Ascanio." "Ah," I said, slowly. "You know much, Bembo." "One hears much in Rome that one does not hear in Falco, especially when one is in the service of his Em- inence, the Cardinal Orrabelli. Listen, Signer Conte!" I stayed him. "I will listen only too gladly, Bembo, but not here." "That is wisely said. Where shall it be?" I could offer no suggestion, and he puckered his brows in thought. "Where is the Signor Conte tarrying?" he asked finally. "At the Angel in the Borgo San Spirito." [144J I Encounter an Old Friend He shook his head. "Neither there, nor at my lodgings near the Vatican, should we be seen together," he said, "at least by day." Then his eyes brightened, and he spoke quickly. "In an alley leading to the river just beyond where the Via Trinitatis and the Via Postulara join, there is a little wine-house kept by a Swiss. It is almost entirely fre- quented by Germans, yet I have often drunk there. The proprietor is inclined to be friendly. If you will go there at once, — you will find it, I think, just now quite deserted, — and say you have come to wait for Messer Bembo, I will be with you as soon as I can get me a new hat and remove these blood-stains at some fountain by the way. We can use the mountain speech, so in case there are occasional patrons we shall not be understood." "Bembo mio," said I, putting both my hands upon his shoulders, and looking him full in the eyes, "I be- lieve that you will one day be again the master of all the horses and hounds of the Falchi." "If the Signor Conte so wills it," he answered, "though, in the meanwhile, should need arise, whether he said 'yea' or 'nay' I would shed for him the last drop of my blood." [145] CHAPTER XIII At the Swiss Wine House WHEN I entered the wine-shop there was no one in the low-ceiHnged room save the proprietor, a shock-headed Swiss. I could see he was perplexed in regard to my quality, my attire being of a non-descript nature, but when I ad- dressed him in German I believe he thought me one of the body of mercenaries then stationed about the Vat- ican, and in the Castra Praetoria which is beyond Monte Ouirinale nigh to the Porta Tiburtina. "You serve German wine?" I inquired. "I do, Signore." "Then fetch me a flagon of Rhenish, and set it on yonder table — " I pointed to one near a window in one corner, a spot that could be almost entirely concealed from the rest of the shop by the drawing of a curtain. "I will quench my thirst while I await the coming of my friend, Messer Bembo." "Messer Bembo !" exclaimed he, as he went to draw the wine, "truly a most estimable man, but one of strange speech!" whereat I could but smile, recalling [146] At the Swiss Wine House the eflforts of the huntsman to twist his language into a resemblance to that heard in the streets of Rome. I had scarcely taken three draughts of the Rhenish when in stalked Bembo, alert and newly hatted. He greeted the proprietor in hearty fashion, and made me a bow in which there was a touch of deference. "Another flagon," said I, "and let it be Lachryma Christi, for I fancy that better suits Messer Bembo's taste than this vintage out of the north." The draught was brought, and Bembo seated him- self, arranging the curtain so that I was wholly con- cealed, and he could keep an eye on the room and the door. There was small preamble to his speech. "How much you are aware, Signor Conte," he be- gan, "of matters which concern you and your father and those of your family here in Rome I do not know, so you must question me when you will. Before I reached the city I had already surmised that your uncle, the Cardinal, had taken me into his employ because he thought I had conceived a hatred for the Illustrissimo. I was still in a hot temper then, and I paid little heed to this fact. On the day following my arrival and in- stallment in my present lodging, I was called into the presence of his Eminence and the Conte Ascanio, in the apartments of his Eminence in the Vatican, to receive instructions in regard to my duties. I was informed that I was to act as a special guard at the entrance to [147] Count Falcon of the Eyrie the rooms of the Cardinal from seven in the evening until I was dismissed. Visitors had to pass two guards at the grand entrance doors below before they came wp to me. It was to be my business to take the names of those desiring audience, and then to step within and ascertain whether the Cardinal would receive them. When my duties had been explained, your uncle in- quired if I understood what was expected of me. I replied that I did, and that he should find me faithful. " 'It was with that belief that I brought you hither,' he replied, 'and now you will take the oath which I re- quire of all who serve me.' "Thereat he rose, and bade me follow, the Conte As- canio walking at my heels. A hanging was drawn back, and I looked in upon the Cardinal's oratory. " 'You will kneel before the crucifix,' " your uncle commanded. "I obeyed him. Out of a corner he plucked a sword, and I heard Ascanio draw his blade. Then I took the awful oath of fealty, and heard the penalty pronounced if I broke the pledge in the slightest particular. I was to obey without hesitation or question, even if it in- volved a matter of dealing out death. I would not 'have ventured to look at my face in a mirror when I went out of that room. But I had thrust my neck into the noose, and I could not withdraw it, so I set my teeth hard together, and began my duties. I was [148] At tlie Swiss Wine House watchful and cautious as a mountain cat, and the Car- dinal praised me. It was but a few days before I dis- covered that Giovanni Orrabelli was the tyrant of Rome ; that the Pope was a mere figure-head, allowed to live I cannot say why : that the Cardinal had thrown scented sops to the Orsini and the Colonnas and made them both his servants; that he had perfected an al- liance with the King of Calabria ; that he was in every ■way trying to hold the Duke of Riletto to his old com- pact with the Pope, the Duke of late having grown cold ; that his aim is the Papacy for himself, and for the Conte Ascanio the kingship of Italy, with himself the power behind the throne." My face must have expressed a blank amazement. "How did I achieve this knowledge, and all so quickly? I will confess that I was not above eaves- dropping ; then, guards will gossip, and there was a vast deal of chatter in the city's streets. The coming of the pilgrims, and the sudden appearance of a large body of German mercenaries who are employed as spies as well as soldiers, has put a stop to much of the talk in the wine-houses and thoroughfares. Many of the good Romans are afraid to speak their minds." "Go on! go on! what more?" cried I. "Much," said Bembo, "but have patience. The first evening I went on guard I became aware of the pres- ence of a powerful humpback called Lippo (a native of [149] Count Falcon of the Eyrie God knows where, a man of singularly acute hearing, yet mute through some injury to, or disease of, his pal- ate) in a little curtained alcove just where the short hallway opens into the Cardinal's reception-room. He is the Cardinal's instrument in case of a sudden emer- gency. If his Eminence wishes a mission involving force carried out with celerity and certainty, it is this strange soulless caricature of mankind who acts. He usually appears soon after I go on duty, and leaves when I do, hence I have grown to know him as well perhaps as any one could know such a creature. He is the incarnation of cupidity, he loves liquor, and he possesses no such thing as a conscience. "My next discovery," said Bembo, lowering his voice, and leaning toward me, "was through listening to a conversation between the Cardinal and the Conte Ascanio one evening when Lippo was absent, as he is sometimes wont to be when a fit of drink seizes him." "And this discovery?" I asked eagerly, feeling that the crowning revelation was at hand. "Was this ; — that all the attempts upon your father's life during the years gone by have emanated from Gio- vanni Orrabelli ; that he, through influencing the Pope, released the Duke from his oath, and inspired the at- tack on Falco and the Eyrie; and that through one of his tools, Zarelli, he was aiming to end your existence, [150] At the Swiss Wine House your uncle having gained knowledge of your where- abouts while at the Eyrie." I was fully prepared for Bembo's final words, and I believe I must have smiled. "When I understood what was going on, Signer Conte, I wonder I did not break in and slay the two, then and there. But I said to myself, as I slipped away to my post at the door, 'that would never restore the Illustrissimo to his rights, and bring back the Conte Guido.' Ah, they have plotted deeply, and have waited long and with amazing patience, have they not, Signor Conte?" I nodded, being incapable of speech. After all, though you be expecting an awful shock, when the ul- timate stroke falls it touches you to the marrow. "When I had finally come into the possession of these various facts," Bembo continued, "I was smitten by a burning shame that I had been a thorn to your poor father, and had, as it appeared to me, most basely deserted him. Then it flooded into my mind that per- haps, somehow, the information that I had gathered, could it be put to use, might restore you and him to your place in the world, and overthrow these fiends, for such they are, Signor Conte, though they be your kindred. But more and more I realized my power- lessness. What could I, a poor servant, bound by the most terrible of oaths, effect? First I thrust the thought [151] Count Falcon of the Eyrie ot' the oath away from me. Indeed, I did that when the two messengers from the Eyrie, my friends, came, were ushered into the Cardinal's presence, and were heard of no more, for I had not the courage to warn them of danger. So I have waited and prayed, and now, Signor Conte, tell me what I may do!" "Already, Bembo," I assured him, "you have effected what no one else could have wrought. Now we know whence the original blow came, though I suppose you have never heard that matter alluded to?" "Only in the very vaguest way, Signor Conte, thotigh there can be no doubt in regard to who it was that in some way compassed it. Are you come direct from the Eyrie, and is all well there?" I then told him briefly and hurriedly my own story. He listened with great attentiveness, making no move- ment until I related how Cencio and I had disposed of Zarelli, whereat he began to shake his head. "I have heard much of that man," he remarked, "and of his hate of the Illustrissimo. Cencio, though a shrewd and brave lad, will never be able to convey him to the Eyrie. If you can conceive any plan of action, let us move quickly." "Does Ascanio frequently visit my uncle?" "Every evening, and usually before either goes out. Ascanio still lives in his old apartments, and is now captain of the guards." [152] At the Swiss Wine House "And this humpback, what figure of a man is he?' You spoke of him as being powerful." "Were it not for his hump he would be as tall as you are, Signer Conte." "You mentioned his fondness for drink. Does he ever drink with you?" "Often, Signor Conte. I have learned his finger signs, and so we can talk together." "His garb, — what is that like when he attends upon the Cardinal?" "Dark, much as yours is." "And his face?" "It is largely concealed by hanging locks of blacfe hair, and a heavy beard which he wears to conceal a. scar." I looked at my watch. "It is now not quite five o'clock," I said. "Just when do you leave your lodgings for the Vatican?" "About five minutes to the stroke of seven." "Three hours ! Can you, in this time, first invite this, man to dine with you, and drug his wine so that he will not be himself until late this evening; then await me at your lodgings with a dark wig and beard, and something that will give me the appearance of being a humpback ?" Joy leaped into Bembo's eyes. [153] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Turn out of the Borgo Nuovo," said he, "just be- fore you reach the Piazza San Pietro, and pass along two streets. If you will inquire for me at the right hand nearer corner house at quarter to seven every- thing will be in readiness." He rose. "Have you any further plans, Signor Conte ?" he in- quired. "None," I replied. "We must let the inspiration of the moment direct our later action," [154] CHAPTER XIV Lippo, the Humpback IN five minutes all the bells of the Borgo would chime the hour of seven. I was gazing doubt- fully at the grotesque figure which the crazy mirror in Bembo's apartment showed. Behind me the huntsman stood, wearing a gnn of mingled triumpK and amusement. "It is to the life, Signor Conte," said he. "Heaven guard the women of the Borgo if they are compelled to look on such a creature every day in the week!" I ejaculated. "He is a stalking terror to all of them," Bembo re- plied. "And the men had as soon encounter the devil himself by night as this same Lippo. You are per- fectly safe, Signor Conte. You are to come to the old entrance, and there will be no word spoken to you by the guards. Once within you will know where to find me. It will be safe to start after fifteen minutes have elapsed." He bade me adieu and hurried out. I sank into a chair. I could not hazard a guess in regard to what was to be the outcome of this adventure, but I hoped [155] Count Falcon of the Eyrie to hear something either from the Hps of my cousin or my uncle that would decide me what move to make next. If there were a weakness anywhere in their plans this was the thing they would be sure to speak of, and of this I determined to take immediate advantage, for, as Bembo had suggested, there was the possibility of Zarelli's escape from Cencio, and once free he would post madly to Rome, more than ever bent on vengeance. When the time designated by Bembo had passed, I quitted the lodgings of the huntsman, and hastened to- ward the Vatican. As I approached the palace I was aware that the right wing was receiving extensive ad- ditions, but the old entrance to the Cardinal's apart- ments and the corridor where my rooms had been, and those of Ascanio still were, I had no difficulty in find- ing. The two guards shrunk away from me as though I were Satan himself, and I entered and slowly as- cended the left hand staircase. Several sconces lighted the lofty passage, and the statue-like figure of Bembo gripping a stout halberd was in full view perhaps a score of paces away. At that moment I bethought me of the blood-ring of the OrrabelH, which, with certain instructions, I had failed to give into the huntsman's keeping. As I drew near I held it out to him. "When the Conte Ascanio passes in," I whispered, "hand this to him, saying that some one pressed it into [156] Lippo, the Humpback j'our palm just before you entered, bidding you convey it to the Cardinal. State, if they call you in to ques- tion you, that in the dusk you got no clear view of the bearer's face for he slipped quickly away. You might add that he gave you the impression of being a moun- taineer. It is an exact copy of a ring of which you may or may not have heard. I wish to see what im- pression it will produce upon my uncle and cousin, and . what comment it will arouse." "Is it the blood-ring?" "Yes, — that is, as I have said, an exact copy of it." "It shall be given to the Conte Ascanio. Now do you take your place. The entrance way is always dim, so follow with your hand the wall at the right until you touch a curtain. This conceals the alcove. Within is a stool, and there is an eye-hole commanding the re- ception-room. If the Cardinal is there, tap twice on the wall ; if he is not present, tap when he enters." He swung back the door, and with a silent indrawing of my breath and a conscious bracing of my nerves, I glided in. The little hall was not the same as formerly, and I realized at once that alterations had been made in my uncle's apartments. Only a ray penetrated the place through the heavy curtains that hid the reception- room, and I was glad to follow the huntsman's sug- gestion and feel my way along the wall. [157] Count Falcon of the Eyrie At length I touched the hanging and slipped behind it. I groped about in the darkness, and found a niche in the alcove wherein there was a stool. Drawing this back noiselessly, I crouched upon it, and applied one of my eyes to the peep-hole. The reception-room was empty. The side walls and ceiling of the whole great chamber had been re-decorated in masterly fashion. Directly opposite, Bible scenes were depicted, but above I noted, by straining my sight upward, that nymphs and fauns and satyrs frolicked amid garlands of vines and flcwers. Rich rugs were strewn about upon the aiarble floor; there were several large and uniquely carved couches, a few chairs, and, not far from the cen- ter of the room, a large table behind which was a chair, crowning the high back of which was a shield whereon were quartered the arms of the Orrabelli. This was doubtless where my uncle sat, for the table was loaded with books and parchments. Seconds, minutes dragged by, and no one appeared. I began to perspire copiously beneath my unwonted head-covering and false beard. I could shift my limbs but little in the contracted space, and my knees threat- ened to cramp. Then, on a sudden, all my discomfort was forgotten, for there was a stir of the drapery at one comer, where I concluded from Bembo's descrip- tion the oratory must be, and my uncle came into the room. He moved deliberately, just as I recalled he [158] Lippo, the Humpback used to do, for he was a more massive man than my father, though not taller, and seated himself in the chair by the table. Then, with a start, I remembered Bembo's instruc- tions, and tapped twice upon the wall, a signal which my uncle acknowledged with a slight nod. As I gazed upon him I could not believe him capable of what I knew that he had done. There was no light save that of apparent kindliness in his deep eyes ; his lips, even and firm, betrayed no evil emotions ; his brow was un- furrowed. Indeed it seemed to me that he looked ex- actly as he did the last time I had seen him six years be- fore, when he visited me in the Castle of San Angelo, and assured me he was sparing no means in his power to stay the condemnatory proceedings, and give me a chance for my life. The recollection of my old affection for my uncle, — • for, when I was a boy, his coming had been the signal for all kinds of merriment, his disposition being so much more happy than that of my father, — surged back upon me, and as he sat there, his pen moving slowly over the perchment before him, I began to tell myself that there must be some horrid mistake about it all. Then I heard the soft oily click of the outer door as it was shut, a hasty step sounded in the hall- way, and my cousin Ascanio, finely tricked out, his haughty face flushed as though he had been dining [159] Count Falcon of the Eyrie sumptuously, strode into the reception-room. He was in full uniform of red, deep blue and gold, a man of much my height and build — thus we had srown inch by inch as we sprang upward from boyhood, — and the only change I noted in him was a certain mincing trick of step and general manner which he had acquired from contact with the French, and an added touch of grossness in his face. Certainly he looked the liber- tine. He twirled the little bag containing the blood- stone ring in his hand, and advancing, tossed it upon the table before his father. "Here is something," he said, and his voice had the same peculiar upward turn of the old time which I was wont to imitate when I was possesssed to tease him, "that Bembo handed me as I came in, stating it had been given him to convey to you by some stranger as he approached the Vatican." My uncle took up the little leathern pocket, and gazed upon it curiously, pressing it with his fingers. "Why, it is a ring!" he exclaimed. "So I thought," replied Ascanio. "What may it mean ?" My uncle undid the fastening of the bag, tipped the leather, and out fell the token, with a musical tinkle, upon the table. Ascanio started visibly ; my uncle's mouth set, and I fancied his teeth came together with a snap, while the [i6o] Lippo, the Humpback Satan that had driven out the angel of good shone malignant from his eyes. Upon the little golden cir- clet with the blood-red jewel the gaze of both men was riveted, held there as metal to a lode-stone. For sev- eral seconds neither of them spoke. "At last!" said my uncle presently, with suppressed triumph in his voice, glancing up, and meeting the eyes of his son, "at last! This is a final appeal, and means desperate straits. What else, think you, could it mean?" "May there not be some deep motive behind it?" "Motive ? What folly ! It is simply the old^anger- signal, and demand for aid. It signifies that the men of the Duke are tightening their grip, and that soon, either through the agency of starvation or an execu- tioner's ax, there will be another Prince Orrabelli." "But if these messengers can win forth from the Eyrie, why cannot others do the same, and convey back provisions? That secret passage you used to be for- ever querying about must exist." "Let us speak no more of it, Ascanio," said my uncle, with decision. "This ring is to me a sure omen of our triumph in so far as the Prince Orrabelli is con- cerned. Now if only Zarelli would return ! I cannot understand his long absence, and the last word we had from him indicated his surety of speedily accomplish- ing his mission." [i6i] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Why worry about ZareUi ? We have every reason to know that he is a man who achieves his end though the difficuhies appear insurmountable. It is our pres- ent business, that of this night, that troubles me." "The girl is still obdurate, then?" "Obdurate! that is a very mild term. She is scorn- ful and defiant." "The advice of her companion, the Contessa degli Orvi, has had no effect ?" "None whatever." "Well, there are threats which we have not tried in case all other forms of persuasion fail, and she remains willful. There is the Torre Postulara, with its merry company of rats, and there are certain Turkish galleys ■cruising off Ostia, the captain of any one of which would be very pleased to acquire a beautiful Italian maid to grace his harem, or to sell at auction in the Constantinople slave market." "I bow to your genius, father! But assuredly you would not carry out either of these menaces ?" "And pray, why not, Ascanio mio? Suppose the maiden refuses to wed you to-night. She becomes an encumbrance unless within a few days the Torre Pos- tulara, say, should bring her to a different way of thinking. If you can wed her before the Duke of Ri- letto arrives in Rome to attend the conference ten days hence, well and good; if not, she must disappear, and [162] Lippo, the Humpback we must contrive that the Duke shall walk into a trap similar to the one set for his daughter. Elisabetta Castelbarco your wife, we are sure of the Duke; the maiden not your wife, she must be got out of the way, and the Duke likewise, for the next in line of succes- sion, as you know, is the Conte del Frazzi whom we can control. We cannot have Riletto siding with the Florentines." I drew away from my place of vantage shaking with rage and terror. Had I walked into the council-room of hell, and were these two, my uncle and cousin, the chief devils ? Then and there I lifted a prayer to God for power to thwart them, and moved swiftly to the eye-hole again. Neither had changed his position. Ascanio was still regarding the Cardinal steadfastly, while that arch-plotter, leaning back in his chair, re- turned his son's look with a measured smile. "Is all arranged at the palace?" inquired my uncle presently. "Everything," replied Ascanio. "The ceremony, as you suggested, will take place in the chapel. One of the Orsini and one of the Colonnas will act as witnesses. The Countess degli Orvi agrees to be present." "But how about the bride herself? I thought you just said — " "She declares she will come down and defy us before the altar." [163] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Ah! Then do you approach her just before the time for the ceremony, while I am kneeling within the chancel, and hint of the Torre Postulara, and, if need be, the Turks." I ground my nails into my flesh when I heard this, and then the inspiration came, which from that instant I followed as though it were a lesson I had learned by rote. I ached for the interview to be over. My uncle rose leisurely from his chair. "The hour is nine?" he inquired. "Yes," answered Ascanio. "You will not have to wait for me. I go now to a gathering of the Cardinals, but I shall not be detained long. Are the men who escorted the Duchess still confined in the cellars of the palace?" "They are." "The Turks would be glad of them, I am sure. They will give good prices for lusty knaves. Addio, Ascanio mio, until nine!" "Addio." Mjr uncle waited until the hallway door had closed and then said, without so much as a glance toward my nook of seclusion : "I shall not need you to-night, Lippo. You may go. Make it known to Bembo that he may go also, but bid him inform my attendants to be ready at the entrance in ten minutes." [164] Lippo, the Humpback I knew not what was expected of me in the way of reply, but hazarded the two taps concerning which Bembo had instructed me. This was evidently per- fectly satisfactory, for my uncle strode from my view, and so without a second's delay I stole out into the hallway. [165] CHAPTER XV My Cousin Ascanio ONCE in the corridor without, I delivered my uncle's message to Bembo. This done, I de- manded hurriedly, — "Which way went the Conte Ascanio ?" "Toward his rooms," replied Bembo, and he pointed down the passage. "He keeps no servant?" "No, the regulations are as formerly. Only those in high authority in the church have servants lodging in the palace." "You said his rooms were the same as of old?" "Yes." "And the stairway into the gardens ?" "Is still there." "And the best path out of the gardens?" "Is to follow the first turning to the right as far as the wing now in construction. By an archway you can pass through into the rectangular court, and thence by means of one of the innumerable unfinished win- dows into the street." [i66] My Cousin Ascanio "Excellent! Now mark, Bembo mio! To-night makes me, or undoes me. I have heard much, and my plans are made. There is no time to relate them to you now, but I am going to the Conte Ascanio's rooms, and when I emerge, if I ever do, it will be as the Conte himself." The huntsman gave an ejaculation of amazement. "Await me at your lodgings," I said. "I hope to be there within half an hour." "May the good God aid you !" I heard him exclaim, as I hastened down the corridor. Was it selfishness moved me to the deed I was about to undertake? I have caught the echo of such sug- gestions, but have always scorned to heed whispered bruitings of envy. Do I not know my own impulses ? Have I not a vivid recollection of all that swept through my mind that night? First, it was my sense of gal- lantry that was touched. What man who has in him the instincts of knightliness will not draw his sword to succor a woman who is being oppressed? Further- more, there was a deeper something in me to which the situation of Elisabetta Castelbarco appealed. It is true that I had seen her but once, that I regarded the gift of the ring which I had worn since the hour it had been presented to me merely in the light of an appreciative remembrance, that the time which I had passed in her charming company was but brief, yet it had been long [167] Count Falcon of the Eyrie enough to show me this, — ^that my heart was not the thing of ice I had striven to make it. But the realiza- tion of the maiden's present peril revealed much more to me ; it laid bare to me my very soul, and, as I looked therein, behold there was an altar, and about the altar there were lighted candles, and kneeling before it was my own figure, and the altar was one to the god of Love ! I was too old to be sentimental ; my exper- iences in life would have embittered most men, yet as I sped down the corridor of the Vatican, doubtless ren- dered in my strange guise thrice fantastic by my haste, into me suddenly seemed to have returned a part of that buoyancy which dances along the veins of youth. Past the door of the room where the Pope's secretary had been -murdered, past the apartment where I had been found blood-besmeared that ghastly morning, I bounded eager and light-footed. My thoughts were of the present — its living possibilities — not of the dread time that was gone. Where the corridor turned I slackened my pace, but, descrying no one, I slipped swiftly forward, gazed a moment down the stairway leading to the gardens, and then strode boldly to Ascanio's door whereupon I knocked sharply. "What is it ?" demanded my cousin. Again I knocked, this time twice. [i68] My Cousin Ascanio I heard Ascanio's step, the latch was lifted, and he stood in the doorway. I made a low obeisance, and began fumbling, as though I would find something in one of my pockets. Evidently he thought I had a message from his father, for he bade me come within. As he closed the door, before he so much as dreamed my intention I flung myself upon him. With one hand I managed half to pinion his right arm, while with the other I gripped his throat. Thus we swayed against the wall which gave him an opportunity to cast me from him, a thing he well-nigh succeeded in doing, cursing me for a humpback devil. Backward and forward we strug- gled, Ascanio endeavoring with his left hand to beat me in the face, but I lowered my head, and most of his blows fell weak and futile. Meanwhile my hold upon his throat tightened, and he began to reel. "Lippo! Lippo!" he gasped, "release me! Good God, what have I done to you?" I locked a leg behind him, and down we crashed upon the floor. He made a violent final effort to throw me off, then by the steady taper-flame I caught the deathly look upon his face, and relaxed my throat-hold. I shifted my knee to his chest, and with desperate quickness unbuckled his belt with which I securely pin- ioned his arms. As I completed this task, he began to cry out for help, feebly at first, then with considerable [169] Count Falcon of the Eyrie strength of voice. I crooked my fingers at him fiercely, and after that he made no sound. Wrenching down a curtain, I rent it into strips with which I fastened his legs. Next, having abstracted his kerchief, I bound it about his mouth so that whatever cries he made after my departure would be but dull and muffled; then I moved from the wall a couch that stood in one corner of the room, raised him in my arms and placed him be- hind it so that he might not spy upon my movements. This accomplished, I snatched up the taper and hur- ried into my cousin's bed-room. Here, upon the bed. was spread the garb he had intended wearing, a fine suit of blue and gold. Without a second's hesitation I began to transform myself from Lippo, the hump- back, into the Conte Ascanio, and shortly I was con- gratulating myself upon my success before a mirror. Shoes, hose, doublet, cloak — all suited me to perfection. My sword was at Bembo's lodgings, so I thought it wise to appropriate one of my cousin's various blades, lest, peradventure, I should find myself in need of a good piece of steel before regaining my own. Then from a small dressing table beneath the mirror I caught up a mask. Without that I could not carry forward the deception. Clapping it on, I stained one cheek below it with a little smear of blood from a scratch upon my wrist which I had received in my tussle with Ascanio, making it appear as though I had been wounded, and [170] My Cousin Ascanio wore the mask to hide my injury. Then I pulled up a trifle the rufif of the doublet so that the swarthiness of the lower portion of my face was in part hidden, and lo, I was prepared to bow before the whole fashionable world of Rome, and acclaim myself, without thought of being questioned, the Conte Ascanio Orrabelli! Making a bundle of my own clothes, and my hump- back's disguise, I quenched the taper, and slipped into the corridor. Then I sprang down the adjoining stairway, and in another instant was breathing the moist night air. Choosing the sward instead of the pathway, that my footsteps might make no sound, I carefully followed Bembo's instructions, discovered the archway, gained the street, and in five minutes was at the huntsman's lodgings. I laid the shell of my im- personation of Lippo without the door, lifted the latch, and entered with Ascanio's mincing step. Bembo was busily oiling a shirt of chain mail. He rose, letting the armor fall with a clatter. As he sur- veyed me, I could see that he was grappling with a great doubt. "Ah, Bembo," I said, with Ascanio's upward slide of voice, "I am glad to have found you." On the instant he was all obeisance. Although he expected to behold me in Ascanio's attire he was wholly deceived. It was my mimicry of my cousin's trick of speech that perfected the illusion. [171] Count Falcon of the Byrie "I think I will do, Bembo mio," I cried, in my nat- ural tone. "Say you not so?" and I reverted to As- canio's peculiar inflection. "By the rood, Signor Conte!" he exclaimed. "It is marvellous! You would deceive even the Cardinal himself." "That is exactly what I intend to do," said I. Then I told him in a measure what I had heard, and my proposed line of action, in so far as I could at that moment decide upon it. "I know I can cotmt on your aid," I remarked. "I will swear to assist you, swear it on your sword !" he replied. "There is no need of that; you may hand me my weapon, however." He took it from the corner, and I gave him Ascanio's blade in exchange. Then I procured the bundle I had left in the hall. "You had best conceal these garments, and the dis^ guise," said I. "If my plan does not succeed I would not incriminate you. Lippo perhaps would accuse you, and your lodgings might be searched." "I shall never return to this house after this evening, Signor Conte, but the bundle can be easily disposed of. [172] My Cousin Ascanio It can be burned. There is an open fire in the kitchen. I passed through the room but a moment since." Bembo sHpped on the shirt of mail I had found him working over, adjusted his doublet and sword, and caught up his cloak together with my bundle. "I am ready," he announced. At the bottom of the stairs he slipped away from me down a dark passage, but soon rejoined me at the street doorway. "The clothes and the disguise will soon be ashes, Signor Conte," he said. As we emerged from Bembo's lodgings, and hastened toward the Tiber, we began to notice that a white vapor was spreading in thick streamers from the river. Nearing the Ponte di San Angelo we encountered banks of it, and I was in great distress lest the whole of the lower city be engulfed as in a cloud. Having crossed the bridge, however, and advanced into the Via Panico, I was relieved to find that only the Borgo was likely to be shrouded, for a gentle breeze out of the east was bearing most of the mist with it. The streets of the shops were choked with passers ; there was a great clamor of tongues, foreign for the most part, since that night a press of pilgrims seemed to have taken posses- sion of the town. Bembo and I talked in the dialect of our mountain valleys, as we made what haste we could through crowded thoroughfares and unpaved alleys. [173] Count Falcon of the Eyrie ".Shall we be able to gain the Palazzo Orrabelli a trifle before nine strikes?" I queried. "That is what I am aiming to do, as nine is the hour set for the ceremony." "If we are not hindered, we shall manage it," answered Bembo. "Are you familiar with the Palazzo?" "In a measure. I have been sent thither several times by the Cardinal and the Conte Ascanio, and you forget that long ago, when you were but an urchin, I was a door-keeper there for one winter for the lullus- trissimo, your father." "It had slipped my memory," said I. "I am glad you know the palace." We could now see the torches flaring in the Piazza Navona, so I drew Bembo into a black doorway for a final word. "I have told you," I whispered, "that I am going into the Palazzo Orrabelli somehow to effect the re- lease of the young Duchess of Riletto, and to thwart the schemes of my uncle and cousin. You are aware,, moreover, that I must be somewhat guided in my actions by what I find to be the condition of affairs, after I enter the palace." "Yes, Signor Conte." "You know, too, that I depend upon you to liberate the escort of the Duchess when chance offers." [174] My Cousin Ascanio "Yes ; you would have me enter the courtyard of the palace with you, and then, in the event of an uproar within, descend to the cellars by the steps and passage near the grand staircase, secure the keys from the stew ■ ard's room, and set free the imprisoned escort of the Duchess." "Precisely. Put them upon the right track to get out of the city by the break in the wall near the Porta Tiburtina. It is to be hoped that there will be some one among them capable of acting as guide to the con- fines of the domains of the Duke of Riletto. At least we shall have done all in our power to assist them." "And then, Signor Conte?" "And then, Bembo, with the money which I gave you before we quitted the Borgo, procure for me the garb of a mendicant friar. Some of the shops, I am sure, will still be open. For the Duchess obtain the ap- parel of a peasant maiden, and some stout footgear. Then do you await us, or we will await you, as fortune favors one or the others, at a little ruined chapel built against the city wall, perhaps a hundred and fifty paces to the right of the Via Pinciana. It used formerly to be closely hidden by a myrtle thicket, and you may have to feel about carefully to discover it unless the sky should lighten." [175] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Then, suddenly, a bell somewhere in the vicinity be- gan to strike nine, and before its monotonous music had ceased near and far over the city variously pitched tongues of silver pealed their message of the hour across the night. "We have lingered too long," said I, and running as far as the Piazza Navona, we strode across the open space, not slackening our gait until we were hard upon the Palazzo Orrabelli. "Remember," said I to Bembo, as I clanged a great peal upon the courtyard bell, "if any one observes and questions you after I leave you, that you are tarrying under the orders of the Conte Ascanio." A wicket was opened, and then there was a hurried drawing of bolts in a door in the great gate. "You are awaited. Excellency," said a man, as I stepped within. I acknowledged this remark with a nod, and, Bem- bo at my heels, hastened toward the entrance to the palace proper. The courtyard itself showed no unusual illumination, but the windows of some of the grand rooms gave forth a brilliant corruscation. "Yonder is a deep bit of shadow," said I to the hunts- man, indicating a jutting buttress, "suppose you bide there. In regard to the moment for you to act, you must be your own judge. If I effect what I hope to, [176] My Cousin Ascanio and what seems not difficult unless there is some unex- pected hitch, I can promise you confusion enough to cover almost any desperate deed." Bembo stole from my side, and I boldly approached the back thrown doors which gave access to the grand staircase. 1^77] CHAPTER XVI In the Palazzo Orrabelli As I entered, servitors in fresh livery bowed low before me at the foot of the stairway ; there were others to do me homage upon the first landing ; and others yet stationed in the spacious hall at the top whence corridors branched in various directions. Just for an instant I was not the condemned man, on whose head a price was still set, venturing upon a dar- ing and desperate deed in the house of my fathers, but the Guido Orrabelli of old, flattered, sought after, the heir of one of the noblest families in the city, not with- out a touch of that pride which only one born of the caste to which I belonged can fully understand. Then I was the exile again, the captain of mercenaries, the bravo lately fled out of Venice, fresh from sanguinary conflicts with the Turks in the Levantine seas. Along the corridor toward the chapel doorway I hastened with all the airs of my cousin Ascanio. The great portal had been swung back, and I strode in with- out a grain of hesitation, for a brazen assurance was my cue. There was a blaze of lights upon the high [178] In the Palazzo Orrabelli altar, before which my uncle was kneeling, otherwise the room was dim. Without the chancel, upon the right, Leone Orsini and Gianbattista Colonna (both of whom I had no difficulty in recognizing) whispered to- gether ; on the left, a little distance apart, stood Elisa- betta Castelbarco and the Contessa degli Orvi. I went forward hurriedly, shook each noblemen by the hand, thanked both for their presence, and explain- ed my tardiness by pointing to my face and referring to a street brawl and an unfortunate wound. When I turned from them my uncle had risen. Without the slightest hesitancy, I stepped within the chancel railing. "What is it?" asked the Cardinal, gazing at me with considerable show of emotion. "A wretched street encounter into which I was un- avoidably drawn," said I. "The wound makes a fright of me, so I must needs wear this mask. The occur- rence is most deplorable." "Truly," my uncle answered. "Your would-be bride is not ice to-night, but rock, and I fear a groom with your visage will have little success in moving any- thing so flinty." "Your latest suggestion," said I, daring a semi-sar- castic tone which had formerly been one of cousin's favorite modes of reply, "was not to thaw but to break. I believe flint can be broken, can it not? You, your- [179] Count Falcon of the Eyrie self, this very evening, were good enough to mention the methods of dealing with such a case." There was a momentary gleam in my uncle's eyes, whether of anger or satisfaction I could not decide. "The object of your wooing awaits you," he an- swered, somewhat ironically. "If you fail, I shall be pleased to see what I can do in the way of persuasion." "Perhaps I may surprise you," said I. He gazed upon me for a second with such penetrat- ing scrutiny that a cold thrill went through me lest I had gone too far, and he suspected something ; but no ! "Their Excellencies of Orsini and Colonna grow im- patient," was all he said. "Why should we bandy words when we both realize what we have at stake ?" "True !" I replied, and as he turned and knelt again I wheeled toward the Duke of Riletto's daughter. As I approached her, she seemed more like a figure carved from marble than a human being. On her face, as white as the winter snows on our mountains of Falco, contempt and scorn were frozen. From head to heel she was clad in some sort of light clinging fabric fast- ened at her throat by a brooch of gold, the only orna- ment which she wore. Her hair, as it had done the day we rode down from the Furlo Pass, showed here and there subtle gleams in the blazing taper light. She might have been one of the vestal virgins, about to choose death rather than dishonor, or one of those early [i8o] In the Palazzo Orrabelli Christian maidens electing to go to the Colosseum and the jaws of the Libyan lions rather than renounce her faith. I passed her without speaking, took the hand of the Contessa degli Orvi, bowed low, and pressed my lips to it. "It is quite useless," whispered she. "You had best give over for to-night. She will shame you and your father before the two princes yonder." "Nay," I replied, in the low tone which she had used. "If you will move aside a few paces further, I have a last proposal to make to the Duchess." "You will achieve naught," said the Contessa, as she complied with my wish. When I moved toward Elisabetta she turned her back upon me. My heart gave a throb of exultation. Nothing could have fallen in more completely with my desire. Now if her face betrayed any emotion when I spoke no one would observe it. I knelt beside her and took her hand, which was as chill as that of the dead. She made a violent effort to withdraw it from my grasp, but I held it firmly. "Duchessa," I said in my natural voice, yet so low that no one could detect the change or follow aught that I said, "incline your head slightly, look down at my hand, and note the ring which I wear thereon. Do this, I beseech you." [i8i] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Already I could feel her arm tremble, and, as I raised my eyes for an instant, I saw her head move slightly. "Do not show the slightest surprise," I went on quickly, "but when you see the ring, recall to whom you gave it. I am here to save you, and I believe I can do so if you will follow my instructions without swerving." I kept my face averted, and waited for some sign from her. Presently another tremor seized her, and her hand tightened upon mine. "I — I — how — " she began, and there was a quiver in her voice. "Yes," I answered. "You thought I was the Conte Ascanio, as do the others, but now you must be assured that I am not. Turn your head slowly again. I am about to rise and seem to plead with you. Explana- tions can come afterward." I released her hand, and when I rose I found that she was as erect and seemingly defiant as ever. I leaned toward her, throwing myself into the attitude of a suppliant. "Behind the altar," I whispered, "is a small library and gowning-room for the use of whomsoever says mass in the chapel. The door is upon our right, and, if I recall correctly, can be locked." (I remembered how, formerly, I had been wont to torment Fra Fran- [182] In the Palazzo Orrabelli cesco, he of the Eyrie, by stealing into the place with a copy of Boccaccio for companion, and locking him out. ) "From this apartment," I 'hurried on, "a pas- sage gives access to an alley, and there is in the pas- sage a window, if we find no key, and need be desper- ate. Should you assent, — and when I have finished you may indicate your 'yea' or 'nay' by a bow or shake of the head, — I will go to the Cardinal Orrabelli and tell him that if I can have a few moments' speech with you in private I believe I can win you to consent to the marriage. Then I will suggest the library as the place for our conversation." "If you are Signor Riparto, as I believe, I cannot understand how you come here, nor how you are so familiar with this place, nor how you know what these wretches are attempting," said she, with a droop of her head, "but I will trust you, and will do as you suggest." 'Then," said I, "when I leave you, appear to unbend a trifle, and when I return from conference with the Cardinal, allow me to take your hand to lead you to the library door. Moreover, do not be surprised if I then address you in rather a loud tone, in the Conte As- canio's voice." When I looked toward the altar I saw that my uncle was observing us. A few hurried steps, and I was at the chancel rail. [183] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "I think she will yield," I said, exultantly, for ex- ultant I was at the way in which everything seemed to be playing into my hands. "If I can speak with her a few moments alone I am certain she will submit. Is there a light in the library ?" "Yes, go ! and I will beg the princes that they excuse the strangeness and delay." I again sought the Duchess, and extended my hand, which she took with apparent hesitancy. Just then in the entrance hall there arose a sudden clamor. I paid no heed to it, though I knew something must have gone wrong — Ascanio possibly have escaped. "Permit me, Duchessa !" I exclaimed, in a high voice, and then cried, "be quick !" beneath my breath. We advanced to the library door, and I drew aside to allow her to pass. Amazement and half bewilder- ment were written upon my uncle's face. He looked from me to the chapel entrance, and then at me again. Heavy, hurried steps rang in the corridor, and a grow- ing confusion of voices swept in to us. By this time I, too, had gained the library, where a glance told me that the door was the stout barrier of old, and that the bolt was strong. The thought that a knowledge of who was approaching with such an uproar might be of ser- vice stayed me an instant from further action. An opening half a span in width gave me a view of the en- tire chapel. There was a final cry, and then Zarelli [184] In the Palazzo Orrabelli dashed into the room, while hard upon his heels, his clothing disarranged, his face still flushed from the ef- fect of the severe choking I had given him, his sword bare, raged Ascanio Orrabelli. I closed the door and shot the bolt home. A leap took me to a press in one corner. This I flung open, and dragged a cassock forth. As I was about to beg the Duchess to wrap the robe about her I realized that she was regarding me doubtfully. I tore the mask from my face, and flung it upon the floor. "You shall see that I am not deceiving you !" I cried. "The Conte Ascanio is there," and I pointed to the chapel, "and with him Michele Zarelli, the so-called Marquis of Perli." "The Marquis of Perli !" exclaimed she, "why, he is my father's good friend!" "He is the tool of the Cardinal Orrabelli!" I cried, "and one of the worst knaves in Christendom !" "But you — " she began, and I realized that she was still unconvinced. "Is it not enough," I exclaimed with some heat, "that this man whom you know as the Marquis of Perli comes hither with the Conte Ascanio ? As for myself, this certainly is no place for explanations. I swear to you that I have no thought save for your safety and your honor, and that I will restore you to your father if God will lend us his aid !" [185] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Ah, the divine smile of trust that made glorious her face ! She gave me her hand frankly. "Forgive me," she said, "for doubting a brave gen- tleman who once proved so true a friend." At that instant there sounded a violent blovi^ upon the door. "Unless I am mistaken we have ample time," said I, though I knew that now the whole matter depended largely upon chance. I wrapped the cassock which I had plucked from the press about the Duchess ; then I turned my cousin's cloak which I had appropriated, it having a dark lining, snatched the taper from the table, and opened a narrow door which revealed a short passage and a short flight of stairs. At the bottom was another door in which there was a key. It turned without a creak, and then a gust of dank air smote our faces. I guarded the taper until we had passed out and I had re-fastened our way of egress, when I quenched the flame, and cast both key and taper into the gutter. "A few steps," said I, "and we shall be in the Via della Pace. Then we must make all speed, and at the same time use every caution." Unresistingly she allowed me to support her by the arm, and we ran blindly forward along the crooked passage. [i86] CHAPTER XVII Out of Rome As we progressed stumblingly, we were con- scious of a rising and ebbing wave of sound, as of many voices chanting. Then the pas- sage elbowed sharply, and the red glare of tossing flambeaux flooded in upon us from the Via della Pace. A throng of pilgrims was marching past the mouth of the alley-way, some bearing banners and some torches. Strange of face they were, and uncouth of garb, and they kept time, in a slow measured tread, to the Latin hymn which they were intoning. "They are Germans," said the Duchess. "One of my attendants at the palace was of that nationality, a friendly soul, though she guarded me jealously, and I heard her speak this morning of some celebratory ser- vices in honor of the completion of the nave of the Ger- m.an church in the Piazza Navona." "I pray these folk are likewise friendly," I answered, "for we must reach the other side of the street or we are lost." Presently there was a small gap in the human tide just behind two tall banner-carriers. [187] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "This is our opportunity!" I exclaimed. "Do you follow me closely !" I sprang into the opening, the Duchess pressing after m^e without a word. Several angry voices hailed us, but we gained the further wall unraolested. "Now," I said, "it is a race for the Piazza della Ro- tonda. We must try to win beyond that before any of the Cardinal's emissaries reach it. There, I believe, will be our greatest danger. Of course they cannot be certain which direction we will take, but they are likely to conjecture that we will fly eastward." "Why not try another route, then?" the Duchess asked. "In the Piazza Navona we should surely be inter- cepted," I replied, "and the alley-ways to the north are teeming with cut-purses and evil characters." "Haste, then, Signore, and I will do my utmost to keep pace with you." There were few bystanders, but at times the proces- sion almost blocked the highway, so occasionally we were forced to pause for an instant. We skirted the chanting pilgrims, emerging into a street that broad- ened to the left, whence our way was clear into the Piazza of the Rotonda across which, I was delighted to note, already stretched the compact line of the devotees — a human wall that might be the means of protecting [i88] Out of Ro-me us from the men of the Cardinal who were fikdy to gain the square from the other side of the church. My companion kept near me, and though there were now plenty of folk about, no hand was lifted to stay our flight. It was not an unusual sight to behold a cavalier hurrying through the streets, and as for the Duchess, I had so enveloped her in the cassock, which was a long one, (and, moreover, hooded her face) that she might easily have been taken for a friar who was being led in haste to the bed of one in need of the last ministrations of a holy man. At length we were parallel with the head of the pro- cession. At the left was an arcade, and in this we sought refuge. "Have you any breath left, Duchessa," I said. "Not much," she replied, "but I will make a last effort." Again I grasped her arm, and gave her what aid I could. "There is a temporary haven near!" I cried in her ear, that she might gain heart. Soon there was a spot where the street lay almost wholly in shadow, and without giving the Duchess time to demur I caught her in my arms and crossed to the opposite wall. [189] Count Falcon of the Eyrie " 'Tis but a few paces further!" I exclaimed, as I put her upon her feet again. We rounded a corner into the Piazza Colonna, and the poor maid half fell upon her knees as I was assist- ing her to mount the steps of San Stefano in Trullo. But she rallied bravely, though her breath came in gasps, and then, pushing back the leathern curtain, I drew her within, and guided her to a bench in a dark corner where she sank in utter exhaustion. Near by there was a pillar against which I leaned. For a long space I remained silent, listening to her labored breathing. Upon an altar, in a remote portion of the church, a few candles were burning, but the light which they shed was almost wholly absorbed in the vastness of the great space. San Stefano in Trullo had once been a heathen temple. Its foundations, and a portion of its walls, had been utilized by some devout builder, and a church curious both without and within had been the outcome. A dome that was ungainly from the exterior, within soared airily above the south- ern extremity of the nave ; there were a great number of side chapels that even by day, unless made brilliant with candles by a devotee, were the haunts of the deep- est shadows. Into one of these dark spaces I presently conducted the Duchess. [190] Out of Rome "It will be well to remain here an hour or more," I said. "If I remember rightly the church is not closed until midnight." I folded my cloak, arranged a pillow upon one of the benches, and begged the Duchess to endeavor to get -\vhat rest she could. "You need have no fear, I will stand guard," said I. "But you, Signore?" and I was touched by the note •of solicitude in her voice. "I am rested already, Duchessa," I answered. "Have no thought of me." By and by I knew from her breathing that she slept, while I, at the entrance to the shrine of I know not what shielding saint, watched and listened ^^-ith a pre- ternatural intentness. Once armed m.en entered and stood in the nave, for I heard the rattle of their scab- bards, but they retired without audible speech. -Once I caught the voice of one praying far away in the dim space, and my thoughts rose with the prayer. But •chiefly my meditations were centered upon what would be the best route to pursue to gain the crumbling chapel by the city wall, with an occasional lapse into wonder whether I should find Bembo awaiting us with all the tasks that I had entrusted to him accomplished. When day broke I knew that the Cardinal's men. "iGerman mercenaries and every available guardsman, [191] Count Falcon of the Eyrie would penetrate each uttermost nook and corner of the city in search of us, and, failing to discover us within the walls, would be sent to scour the length and breadth of the Campagna to the north in pursuit of us. But I had a feeling that until the lifting of dawn, unless we stumbled blindly into the arms of misfortune, we were safe. The respite meant much, for if the strength of the Duchess held out, and Bembo had been equal to what I had imposed on him. by sunrise we might be well beyond the Anio. Though I knew certain parts of the Campagna well, and though the youth Cencio could be trusted to pick his way on the blackest night through many of the winding ways of the mountain and hill country, Bembo was more familiar with all the devious paths between the Aurelian wall and the bor- ders of the Dukedom of Riletto than he was with his own face in the glass. Had he not ranged up and down this expanse since boyhood, both as herdsman and huntsman ? And was it not whispered of him that during several years of his young manhood he had been over well acquainted with a certain band of rovers who had an itching for the purses of travelers and pilgrims ? Truly, if any man in all the Pope's Patrimony could guide us safely into the domains of the Duke of Ri- letto, that man was Bembo the huntsman ! It must have been close upon midnight before I spoke to the Duchess. She answered me immediately. [192] Out of Rome "I have been awake several minutes," she said, rising, "wondering if you were anywhere near. Is it time for us to start?" "It is," I replied. "Do you feel refreshed?" "Oh, greatly ! but I trust that we shall not be forced to run again. Had this refuge not been at hand, I •could never have moved another step. I was in most dreadful distress and nigh to choking." "I pitied you from the bottom of my heart, but our haste was our only salvation. Now, since our path is likely to be rough, and at times uncertain, we shall probably find it necessary to move slowly." "I will make any effort that is required, nor shrink from it, but the terrible oppression in my breast, from that I do pray to be spared. Whither go we, may I ask?" "I expect that a friend awaits us in a lonely spot where there is a gap in the wall, not far from the Porta Pinciana." "Then we are to leave the city to-night?" "If the angels and saints favor us." "I shall say a prayer," and I could hear her slipping to her knees there in the darkness. After a moment I felt her hand upon my arm. "I must cling to you, Signore," she said, "until we are beneath the sky. I have lost all sense of location. [193] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Despite yonder candle-light, I can not tell in which di- rection lies the door." Her complete trust in me nerved me as I had never been nerved before. She seemed suddenly to have lost the touch of haughtiness which I had noted in her at our first meeting, and was simple and devoid of pride, showing a quiet determination and womanly bravery that were to me a source of wonder. Yet when I re- called her demeanor in the Orrabelli chapel I realized how much stern power the gentler aspect of her nature, which she now showed, concealed. If I had before this regarded her as a woman worthy of a man's highest and purest devotion, the more I deemed her so now, and henceforward was her ardent, if, for the most part, silent worshipper. When we emerged from San Stefano in Trullo, the Piazza Colonna was almost wholly deserted. Beneath a lantern which swung at the corner where a short thoroughfare led to the gardens of Monte Citorio, two pikemen — or men of the city watch — were gossiping. A harmless reveller was mumbling the lines of a drink- ing song at the entrance to the Via Flaminia, but aside from these three there was no human soul discoverable. Stooping, and stealing along as close as might be to the wall, we gained the easterly side of the piazza, and soon were stumbling by a path across the open fields toward the Via Pinciana. There was no light to guide [194] Out of Rome us now save the dull lustre of the haze-dimmed stars, but I was quick to recognize the Via Pinciana when we came upon it. I gave a little laugh of exultation. "More than half the battle is won, Duchessa !" I said to my companion. "And should we have the good for- tune to find my friend at the hiding-place I bade him seek, I feel I can assure you that, in a few days, you will be out of the Pope's Patrimony, and safe from the clutches of the Cardinal Orrabelli and his son. I trust your father is nearer than Riletto." "I am quite sure that he is at his castle, the Four Towers, which is in the woods above Spetto. He intended going thither to hunt the boar soon after I left him, which was two days before you came so gal- lantly to our aid in the Furlo Pass." "The Four Towers! That is fortunate!" "For a Venetian gentleman," said the Duchess, with a suggestion of banter in her tone, "I am beginning to think that you know Rome and its vicinity wonderfully well." "At times I have been much in Rome," I replied, ap- pearing to take her half playful remark in all gravity. "I have every reason to thank God for it," she an- swered, falling in with my earnestness ; yet immediately she reverted to what was foremost in her thoughts. "How strange it is," she went on, half meditatively, [195] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "that you should twice, in so brief a space, come to my rescue when I was in dire peril ! The first time, it was chance, so you said, Signore, but assuredly it was not chance that brought you to the Palazzo Orrabelli at the stroke of a special hour in the Conte Ascanio's clothing, to all but myself the Count in every word and action !" She would not ask me outright to explain my knowl- edge of her need, and all that my disguise implied, but I realized that her curiosity and wonder were not easily to be diverted. My position was most embarrassing. If I did not tell her how it was that I appeared in the guise of her high-handed wooer, she might take it ill, while if I did attempt to explain, I should be forced to reveal matters concerning which I must, perforce, be silent. "Will you bear with me, Duchessa," I said, halt- ingly, "if I do not, at this moment, make it clear to you how that which happened in the chapel of the Palazzo Orrabelli was rendered possible ? One day, should you care to listen, I will relate it all to you unreservedly, but now, much as it would please me to serve you in every way in which a man may serve a beautiful and brave woman, there is something that constrains me from speech." I was all of a tremble when I had finished lest she should turn cold toward me, if not angry, at what I fancied might seem to her obstinacy and presumption, [196] Out of Rome — she a motherless child since early girlhood, long ac- customed to command, have her lightest wish consulted, and be both in large and trivial matters obeyed. But I had misjudged her sadly. Instantly, in her reply, the quick perception and sweetness of her nature were apparent. "It is you who should bear with me, Signore," she returned, "for placing you in what I perceive to be a distressing position. I am sure you will absolve me from any wish to pry into the private concerns of a gentleman. On the other hand you will agree that my curiosity was, and is, pardonable, all the more so as curiosity is supposed to be an especial prerogative of my sex. If the day comes when you feel that you can shed light on what is now so dark to me, I shall count it a privilege to be made to see, in the meanwhile I beg you will think of me as deeply sensible of all you have so nobly ventured in my behalf." Was it not the discourse of an angel ? Others might have doubted, but not I ! In a few words she had placed me upon exactly the footing whereon I would stand with her. What was past was past, and concern- ing it she would not open her lips until I took the in- itiative. I would see her safely beyond the confines of the Patrimony, and then — well, the future could take care of itself. It was the present, and the safety of the Duchess that now concerned me. A little later, when [197] Count Falcon of the Byrie we had slipped further out of the noose of danger, I •might allow myself to ponder a bit on what course I should pursue. Deep in my heart there had rooted the "belief that if we won unsnared away, the happenings of this night would somehow work to overthrow my uncle and clear from my father and myself the shadow that had so long gloomed about us. At length I descried, before us on the right, the bank of small growth — pines, ilexes, and an infinite variety •of shrubbery — that flanks the Aurelian wall, and ■cautioning the Duchess to follow me closely, I stepped from the highway into a vineyard which extended to the edge of the undergrowth. Having advanced what I recalled to be about the right number of paces, I led any companion forward at a sharp angle until the black screen of leaves touched our faces. Just here it was intensely dark, and I began, for the first time, to have ■doubts in regard to my ability to find the ruined chapel. Then I thought of Bembo, and his woodsman's skill, and gave a little cry such as a snared bird gives, — a sound which had once been a signal between us in the woods of Pino. Like the voice of echo came back the cry, then there was the light noise of one cautiously approaching through the undergrowth. "Where are you, Signore?" said Bembo's voice; (I thad carefully tutored him to drop the 'Conte,' bidding [198] Out of Rome him, when he so willed, address me as Signer Guid'o instead. ) "Here," said I. "Is all well?" "Yes, all is well." "He has liberated your escort," I confided to the Duchess, "and has disguises for both of us." "This way, Signore," Bembo said. "There," (as he touched me), "give me your hand." I obeyed his injunction, extending my other hand tc the Duchess. Thus we entered the tangle, Bembo, by what seemed instinct, guiding us forward, telling when to stoop, when to beware of a fallen bole, and finally, when we had paused in a little open space where, be- fore us, above the crest of the looming wall, we could see the dim points of stars in the vast of the sky, ex- claiming : "This must be the spot, Signore!" "It certainly is, Bembo," I replied, "and I fear mucb I should never have found it but for you. This," I added, addressing the Duchess, "is Messer Bembo, my good friend, who is as diligent by day in my behalf as. you observe he is by night. This, Bembo," I con- tinued, "is the lady of whom I spoke to you." "Her Excellency will find me her most devoted ser- vant," said Bembo. "And I, Messer Bembo, count myself the most for- tunate of maids to have gained so shrewd and so active [199] Count Falcon of the Eyrie an attendant as I perceive, despite the darkness, that you are. For what Signor Riparto tells me you have done I thank you from my heart." "You have explored the chapel, Bembo ?" I asked. "Yes, Signore, and have the disguises within. The chapel is roofless, but the walls of one room are intact, and there one of the tapers, which I thought wise to procure, might be lighted, and such changes made in your attire as seem best. The final touches in the mat- ter of disguise can be left till daylight. You would counsel haste now, would you not?" "By all means. You have found the gap in the wall?" "It is hard by." Not many moments afterward, from the under- growth bordering the Via Pinciana outside the walls of Rome, there emerged a peasant maiden, a man of the mountains, and a mendicant friar, who, without paus- ing for a backward glance at the bulk of the threat- ening ramparts, hurried northward toward the nearest bridge over the Anio. [200] CHAPTER XVIII In the Chestnut Wood THE five days that followed were like five per- fect pearls strung upon the rosary of Joy. There was no hour, even when danger men- aced most darkly, that was void of its distillation of sweetness. Then first did I learn what it was to live. And ah, the intrepidity, the linked frankness and mod- esty, the uncomplainingness, the unspeakable lovable- ness of the maiden to whom it was my privilege, and that of Bembo, to minister! The huntsman was her slave from the outset. More, with me he was her vig- ilant protector. There does not exist a man who could have been more watchful, more alert, and more un- tiring. The paths we trod it would be impossible to trace; the perils through which we passed it would be difficult to number ; the strange sights we sa-\\- and the weird places into which we penetrated, it would require long to describe. How we circled forward, how we angled back, how we zig-zagged here, how we looped there ! Bembo set the Dutchess and myself a rare ex- ample of cunning and caution. He had a new mien for every herdsman we met, a different manner of sal- [201] Count Falcon of the Eyrie utation for every pilgrim we encountered. Under his tutelage, I became the very image of duplicity, whining and voluble by turns; while the Duchess acted the peasant maiden with gay abandon or shy demureness, as occasion demanded. Once night gave us a ruined tower for shelter, once a herdsman's deserted hut, once a shallow cave which we carpeted with bracken. Then again there was broken slumber beneath the stars, and always either Bembo or I mounted guard. We experienced many things of which men read with wonder, and of which the peasants speak with awe-blanched visages. We saw the death-fires dancing over the pits of Corvo, heard the midnight mass which the spirit nuns of the rock of Anneli (holy women slain ages since by the Huns) chant when there is no moon, and were warned from the fatal bogs of Martza by the pervasive rose-like smell of the martyr-flower which bursts to sudden fragrant bloom when the feet of an innocent maid are on the verge of being drawn into the sloughs of destruction. Our pursuers raced before us, harried the wastes be- hind us, raged vehemently about us, yet they ever missed taking us. Sometimes we cajoled them, but for the most part we eluded them, and then at last about mid-morning of the sixth day we crossed the boundary line between the Patrimony of the Pope and the domain of the Duke of Riletto, and mounted, each [202] In the Chestnut Wood of us I think with a prayer, a long slope through an open chestnut wood. The burrs and ambered leaves were thick beneath our feet, and the nuts came down like the rhythmic patter of rain. As we neared the crown of the slope I cast aside the loose outer robe I wore, doubled it about my arm, and tripped forward in antic wise. Gladness, and a vast relief, dominated my spirit, and yet deep in my soul there was sadness, for now the hour of parting drew nigh. I had come to a decision that I would go no further upon the road to the Four Towers than was necessary to ensure the safety of the Duchess. When the first opportunity offered, I determined that I would leave Elisabetta with a friendly escort, and return to the Eyrie, there to take counsel with my father, and to await the effect upon the Duke of his daughter's story of her experiences. My heart told me that the Duchess did not intend to shame me by her action, but she had been as open with me concerning the reason for her presence in the Palaz- zo Orrabelli as I had been secretive with her. It ap- peared that she had preceded her father to Rome at the invitation of relatives who urged her to come thither to witness the spectacles incident upon the great pilgrim- age, and was upon her journey when I had rescued her from the bandits in the Furlo Pass. Reaching the city, she discovered, to her great amazement, that the palace [203] Count Falcon of the Eyrie of the family whom she was to visit was closed. A servant who remained in charge informed her that the sickness of the Conte del Frazzi, her father's cousin, had forced the houshold to remove to the Count's villa at Frascati. Word had been left bidding her join her relatives should she so elect, or, she was told, his Emin- ence, the Cardinal Orrabelli, would esteem it an honor if she would tarry until the return of the Count and his family, or until her father arrived, at the Palazzo Orra- belli, which was wholly at her disposal. This offer did not surprise her, since she was aware that of late there had been frequent and somewhat extended communi- cations between the Duke, her father, and the Cardinal, and while she did not dream of accepting the latter's hospitality for any extended period, she realized that she must go somewhere for at least that night, it being late in the day, and hence walked directly into the trap my scheming uncle had so artfully set. On the fol- lowing morning she discovered herself to be practically a prisoner, the object of the most persistent attentions from one ^\•hom she had formerly met and learned to dislike, and whom she now straightway came to despise. It will be recalled that when I set out for Rome I had intended in some way — I had no clear notion of how it was to be accomplished — to make a friend of the Duke of Riletto. Certainly I had done that which [204J In the Chestnut Wood should cause him to be more than well disposed toward me, but I had no wish to stand before him in a wrong light as one who wrought for selfish ends, and, more- over, now that I had enjoyed such brief, but sweet in- timacy with Elisabetta, I shrank from encountering her father until the mystery of the sanguine affair of his nephew and son had been made as clear as the sky at noonday. My course of action I had thought out as I stood guard by night over the Duchess' slumbers. Was it strange, thrown as T had been into such close, free, friendly companionship with this most lovely and most brave of maidens, that dreams of the future began to attend me? The old shadow dissipated, why should T not grasp at and attain the crown of my vision? Did I deceive myself into thinking that when my eyes met those of Elisabetta, as continually chanced durmg that perilous time, I began to detect in hers a reflection of the gleam that shone from my own? When our hands touched, as sometimes they must, was I mis- taken in fancying that she, at least in some degree, an- swered to the indescribable, the unnameable thrill that flamed through my being? Nay, my heart sang with an intimation that was as sweet as is to the earth the first pulsing premonition of the spring! At present I could say no word. But wait! In a week, — two weeks, — a month, — much might happen. Then I [205] Count Falcon of the Eyrie might not be a simple Venetian gentleman, but the Conte dei Falchi, heir of the Prince Orrabelli of Rome. Yet would Elisabetta, if she loved me, love me the more for that ? I would have staked my faith that she would not. All this was in my mind as I capered in merry fash- ion up the leaf-strewn slope of the chestnut wood, while the maiden uttered a little buoyant laugh, and Bembo cried out: "By Bacchus, Signore, but you cut a most nimble figure for a friar !" So we came to the plateau-like crest where the trees grouped themselves like an assemblage of giants, and only now and again a fleck of sunshine, despite the les- sened foliage, filtered through upon the sward. The Duchess gave an exclamation of delight. "Why, I believe I know this place!"' she said. "Let us press forward and see if, at the base of the descent beyond, there is not a mountain road." Simultaneously we quickened our steps and, pres- ently, looking down through open aisles, descried a well-defined highway. "It is the woodland road from Spetto!" cried the Duchess, beaming upon Bembo and myself. "Yes," returned the huntsman, "and the castle of his Grace, your father, is but three hours' distant !" [206] In the Chestnut Wood "Ah, my preservers, my comrades, my good friends !" ejeculated Elisabetta, "how shall I ever prove to you my gratitude ! What have you not endured for me?" "Little indeed, Duchessa," I returned, "in compari- son to what Messer Bembo and I would endure if it wrought for your safety." "The Signer Guido is the well of truth, Illustris- sima!" averred the huntsman. The eyes of the maiden dimmed with tears, and she gave to each of us her hand in turn. With varied emotions both of us bent over it as something sacred. We had had little to eat that morning, and Bembo proposed that he play the forager, a suggestion to which we readily agreed, so he set out to seek a small hamlet which lay upon the roadway half an hour's walk in the direction of Spetto. Elisabetta and I ac- companied him as far as a spot adjacent to the highway, a slight depression in the hillside carpeted by moss and leaves, and touched with warm glints of sunlight. "You will find us here," I said. "It will be a pleas- ant nook wherein to dine." The huntsman cast a glance to mark the place, de- scended to the highway, and swung away at a long even stride. Left to ourselves, over the Duchess and myself fell an unwonted constraint. My thoughts were so diverse, so crowded, so tense, that I could not [207] Count Falcon of the Eyrie trust myself to speak, save in commonplaces, and what my companion had in her mind as the subject of her meditations I did not suffer myself to conjecture. A soft breeze stirred about us ; all through the woodland there were little rustling, gossiping noises — and louder, there were the chirr of insects and the whirr of pheasants. When I dared, I let my eyes rest upon the perfect contour of my companion's face, unknowing how soon again I might hope for so rapt a pleasure. Once T was startled to find her gaze fixed intently upon me, and only by a violent effort did I stem the impetuous love-speech that rushed to my lips. It was an hour for confidences, for heart-confession, and yet honor held me dumb. I would not woo and win my soul's desire tinder the guise of Guido Riparto, and I realized that the time had not come for the laying bare of my identity. The irksomeness of the restraint which I was forced to put upon my emotions grew as the moments of Bem- bo's absence lengthened, and white I found an untold sweetness in being alone with Elisabetta, at the same time I began to long for the huntsman's return. I be- lieve it was to relieve me from a feeling of which she must have caught at least an intimation that the Duch- ess finally said she would try to sleep for a little. I ar- ranged a couch of moss and leaves for her at the base [208] In the Chestnut Wood of a massive bole, and then retired to a point that com- manded a considerable stretch of highway to watch for Bembo. I was beginning to wonder what had caused him so to protract his stay, when my ear caught a dull thudding, as of horses' hoofs upon rock. Clearer swelled the sound and clearer, until I was certain that it was indeed that of approaching horsemen. I crouched closer to the ground to guard lest by any chance I might be seen, keeping the while my gaze riv- eted on the bend around which the nearing riders would soon dash into view. A gruff voice uttered a word of urgence that reached my hearing, and then from a screen of trees three horsemen emerged. One rode in advance, while the others pressed hard behind him. All came forward in masterly fashion, easily, yet impet- uousl}'-, their horses striding as though impelled by a single mechanism. What was it that struck me as so familiar in the foremost figure — pose, carriage of the head, shape of the shoulders? For an instant, as he neared, the man turned his face fairly toward me, and I started involuntarily with a sharp intake of the breath. The rider was Zarelli. [209] CHAPTER XIX The Hand of Zarelli THE three swept past me, and were gone. The wood swallowed them, and the sound of their horses' hoofs. What was their mission? Doubtless they rode to the Four Towers to seek the Duke of Riletto, but why ? "It must be," I told myself, "my uncle's last desperate throw in the game he has been playing." Somehow he hoped to destroy or con- trovert the effect that Elisabetta's story would have upon her father. For what other reason could Zarelli be spurring so determinedly ? I tried to imagine what possible turn the Cardinal could give to the recent hap- penings in Rome that would cause the Duke to lend credence to the communication about to be delivered to him rather than to the word of his daughter. I had had terrible evidence of the devilish ingenuity, the ser- pent-like guile of my uncle, and I was sure his diabol- ical mind had conceived some way of diverting the Duke's wrath, but what the means could be my poor wits were not able to fathom. The advent of Zarelli shocked me from the sense of security and triumph into which I had permitted my- [210] The Hand of Zarelli self to lapse. Did I not realize, from bitter experience, that his appearance meant continued struggle and re- newed danger. Thus far I had come off the victor in each encounter since I had entered the field, but could I hope, albeit my cause was rooted in the right, that I should be the perpetual conqueror? And what would all my past prowess and good fortune avail if, in the final struggle, I should go down before this indefatig- able evil leaguer that Zarelli personated ? But go down I would not. I cast ofif the depressing suggestions that had invaded my thoughts, and girt myself anew with courage. "So be it," I said softly, "if the fight is not yet fin- ished, it shall go on to the death !" On glancing toward Elisabetta to see if she had been wakened by the passing horsemen, I found that she had half risen. "Who was it?" she asked, as I moved toward her. Then she must have read something of what was occu- pying my mind from the expression of my face, for she added, with an accent of alarm, "can it be that we are still pursued? Would they dare?" "Dare?" I returned, "they would dare anything and everything. Can you not see how desperate is the po- sition of the Cardinal and his son ? Those who passed have doubtless been among our pursuers, but pursuit is not their purpose now. I would risk my life on the [2IIJ Count Falcon of the Eyrie wager that they ride to forestall your arrival at the Four Towers. Their leader was the man you know as the Marquis of Perli." Incredulity was writ upon Elisabetta's fair features. "You say that after what has happened the Marquis of Perli, the creature of the Cardinal Orrabelli, rides to forestall my arrival at the Four Towers? Incred- ible! What can he hope to do? Ah, I perceive! Gain my father's ear before I arrive with some tissue of excuse and misrepresentation! Is the Cardinal so blind, so fatuous, as to suppose that my father will be- lieve a trumped up tale rather than his daughter's word ? Let us go forward and confound this wretch, and through him those who have dispatched him !" She was upon her feet now, her eyes a-kindle with indignation, her shapely form erect and tense with purpose. Side by side we moved to the spot I had just quitted, the Duchess vehement and impatient, I silent and thoughtful. I knew that she did not dream of my in- tention of leaving her, and now more than ever was I loth to do so, not that I in any wise feared for her safety, — that were absurd, — but something whispered to me with subtle augury that discomfort and chagrin were in store for her. Again in the distance rose the faint sound of hoof- beats, this time evidently those of but a single animal. [212] The Hand of Zarelli Instinctively we crouched upon the earth, erelong to spring up with a call of welcome, for the rider proved to be Bembo astride a shaggy mountain pony, his arms bowed out with packages. "It was chafifer for this beast that delayed me," he averred. "Will your Excellency accept him?" he asked of Elisabetta. "It seemed to me ill-fitting that you should approach your father's castle on foot." The good fellow's thoughtfulness moved the Duch- ess from her passionate mood, and the buoyant smile which I had come to watch for played about her lips as she thanked him. The pony was tethered, and without ceremony we fell to feasting on such plain fare as Bembo had been able to secure, — bread, cheese, some cured goat's meat and wine of the lower countryside. "I heard a clatter of hoofs while I was haggling over the pony," said Bembo, addressing me when he had blunted the sharp edge of his hunger, "but saw not who passed. Did you note, Signore?" I nodded, giving him a keen look lest he should say too much when he heard my answer. "It was Zarelli," I announced, "and two others." He could not repress a little start of astonishment, and his visage grew wrinkled with perplexity. It was impossible for him to plumb the depth of daring show- ed by this move on the part of my uncle and his un- scrupulous agent. [213] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Zarelli !" he repeated, "Zarelli ! why, that means — " He saw that the Duchess was intent upon his speech, and paused. "Mischief of some sort," I put in, completing his sentence. "How can it mean aught that a few words from my lips will not instantly undo?" demanded Elisabetta, with a return of her former passion. "Were he another," said I, "or did he serve others, your question could have but one answer. But being Zarelli, and serving whom he does, there is room for an infinitude of conjecture. I say this that you may not be surprised at aught that greets you on your ar- rival at the Four Towers. You will be beyond the pale of danger with your father, but do not be aston- ished if somehow this personification of Satan contrive to implant in the mind of the Duke an idea that what you have to tell is a delusion. It will certainly sound most amazing — the story of our adventures — ^you must admit that. "You do not know my father," said the Duchess, and now she was inclined to laugh at my forecast of her reception. "Moreover," she continued, "have I not a witness to attest to the verity of my statements ?" The hour at last had struck. I must tell her that I could not go with her beneath her father's roof. As [214] The Hand of Zarelli Bembo rose, and moved away to imtether the pony, I mustered courage. "Duchessa," I said, and my heart was in my voice,, "once before, on the night we left Rome, you bore with me. Bear with me again now, and seek not at this time to know what one day, if you will permit me, it will be my greatest joy to tell you fully. There are reasons why I cannot accompany you within the walls of the Four Towers. Until you meet with trustworthy friends, or until within sight of your father's castle, my hand shall guard you, but then my service must cease.'* Ah, the pain that came into her eyes as I uttered these words ! How it tore my spirit to realize that I had caused her suffering, and yet with what exultation was I filled at the thought that she cared so deeply ! "Surely," she cried, with a touch of poignant appre- hension, "there can be no enmity between you and my father !" "Believe me," I returned, "I have naught but the highest esteem for his Grace, the Duke." "You have met, then ! why have you not told me ? Ah, I perceive you would not have me question you,, and I must bow to your desire, but it is hard to be left so in darkness and doubt ! I had looked forward with such anticipation to presenting you to my father ; I had thought of his words to you, of his gratitude, when 1 had made known to him what you have done for me. [215] Count Falcon of the Eyrie Of your service in the Furlo Pass he is already aware ; that I communicated to him, but oh, Signore, what a debt have you heaped up since then — one which my father and I can never repay." "Speak not of debts and repayment, Duchessa. I have now but one thing to ask of you." "And that?" "Remembrance." "Ah, Signore!" this reproachfully. "But there may be something else later." I could not put a stay upon the emotion in my tone, and I saw the blood mount slowly to her cheeks until beneath their tan and stain they flushed divinely. "Ask what you will," she said, very softly. I leaned toward her and took her hand, and, bending above it. kissed it. A moment afterward, no word further having passed between us, we were walking toward Bembo and the waiting pony. With all the glee of a child Elisabetta perched herself upon the animal's saddleless back, clutching its mane with one hand, and with the other guiding it by means of a rope-bridle which Bembo had skillfully improvised. Whatever our thoughts were, we made a merry trio as we hastened onward. In and out through the rustling trees we wound (chestnut and oak and pine), now up, now down, gradually ascend- ing always, for the Duke's hunting seat, the Four [216] The Hand of Zarelli Towers, was situated upon lofty ground. Deer peered" out at us from tangled coverts ; hares darted across our way; and, in adjacent hollows, we heard the boar wal- lowing, or crunching the mast. After a time the wood assumed a more broken aspect; great masses of gray and reddish-brown rock up-cropped here and there; and there were open reaches of bracken that the scorching autumnal sun had crisped to a dull russet. Two hours and more had we been advancing upon the woodland road when we came to the juncture between it and the longer, but more frequently traveled and wider, highway between the Four Towers and Spetto. Approaching along this thoroughfare at a rapid pace we beheld a single horse- man, superbly mounted. He was a most remarkable figure, bare-headed, golden-haired, yet tonsured like a priest, garbed in black, having the mien of a warrior, yet the expression of a man of prayer. In a crowded city he would have held the eyes of the multitude, even as he held ours in that wooded solitude. From the lips of the Duchess came a cry of pleasure^ from my own a smothered exclamation of as- tonishment. "The Bishop of Spetto !" was what Elisabetta said. "Domencio del Cerda!" was what I ejaculated be- neath my breath. [217] Count Falcon of the Eyrie The man was an old schoolfellow of mine at the Col- lege of the Franciscans, once a most intimate friend, the recollection of whose frank and fearless spirit, and whose wondrous beauty of face and bearing, I had al- ways cherished, though our ways in life had parted us when we left the doors of the good fathers who were our instructors. I had heard of Del Cerda's rise in the church, but did not realize that, at his years, he had at- tained to the eminence of Bishop. Instinctively we came to a halt, and waited for the churchman to approach. Already he was eyeing us with curiosity, not recognizing the Duchess in her strange attire, and regarding me, as I was pleased to note, a stranger. As he drew abreast of us, and Elisa- betta looked upon him with a smile, amazement blotted out the expression of inquiry upon his countenance. "Surely," said he, "my sight does not deceive me! It is the Duchessa Elisabetta !" "It is, Monsignore," the Duchess answered, still smiling, amused at his astonishment On me and Bembo in turn his glance rested as though asking for an explanation. I comprehended what was working within his mind. "I thought," he began, — "I was told by your father, the Duke, that you were in Rome." "I have lately been in Rome," returned Elisabetta, her face becoming grave. [218] The Hand of Zarelli "Your Grace is perhaps riding to the Four Towers?" I ventured to interpose, knowing that no more fitting escort than the Bishop could be found for Elisabetta. "Yes," repHed Del Cerda. "Then," said I, "it is best that my friend and I say- farewell to the Signorina Duchessa, and that she pro- ceed with you." I bared my head, saluting Elisabetta, and Bembo did likewise. "You are no friar !" cried the Bishop, suddenly, his gaze now fixed searchingly upon me. "Where, Sig- nore, have I heard your voice before? It comes to me out of the past. Can it be possible that — ," he paused, shifting his gaze from me to Elisabetta, then letting it rest upon me again. He had the clue, and yet what had flashed upon him seemed incredible, for he knew well my story, though he had not been in Rome at the time of the murder, and that I should be in company with her whose cousin I was supposed to have slain, and of whose brother's death I was reputed to have been the cause, doubtless struck him as little short of an astonishing anomaly. Judging him as I had known him of old, I felt sure that there would be no disposition on his part to un- mask me, though he might, with all the world, regard me guilty of the crime laid at my door. Yet realizing [219] Count Falcon of the Eyrie that it were well to put a quick close to the interview, T cut in sharply: "The Duchess will tell you, Monsignore, that I am the Capitano Guido Riparto of Venice, and haply she may have other matters to confide to you, as you ride toward the Four Towers." I intended the last as a hint upon which I hoped Elisabetta would act, for I was sure if she took Del Cerda into her confidence, although by so doing she would make it clear to him, (if he in the least doubted) who I was, she would have a strong and able ally in whatever perplexities she might encounter from the presence of Zarelli. Moreover, I thought to strength- en my case, and perhaps win for myself a powerful aid in the struggle which I foresaw was about to reach its climax — just in what way, had the manner of it then been revealed to me, would have seemed astounding. With a last look at Elisabetta, — a look wherein was centered all my hope and faith and love, — I joined Bembo, and together we turned back toward Spetto. "For the Eyrie, Signor Conte?" inquired he. "Yes," I replied, "for the Eyrie." As we retraced our steps along the woodland road, 1 began to ruminate upon what my next line of action should be, — upon what my father would counsel. Probably the course of wisdom would be to remain quiet for a little, since I was certain that, though my [220] The Hand of Zarelli uncle and cousin might not admit defeat, I had man- aged to put an effective stay upon the accomplishment of their designs, and time might work much in our favor. Unless the escort of the Duchess had all been recaptured, some of her attendants were likely to appear erelong either at the Four Towers, or Riletto, and, pro- vided Zarelli contrived to make the Duke believe his daughter's experience a delusion, there would be in the story of the fugitives enough to cause him to meditate much on the good faith of the Cardinal. Of any present danger to myself I did not dream, and Bembo. usually as keen as a hound to scent aught suspicious, for once was lacking in alertness. We had been striding upon the backward way perhaps ten min- utes when we came to a bend in the road, where, upon both sides, there was a low growth of fir through which I recalled upon our left a bridle-path descended. Out of this pathway six men hurled themselves upon us without a breath of warning. There was no time to draw a weapon ; indeed, I was mastered and cast upon the earth before I had a chance to recognize by whom I was jLSsailed, and when I recovered from the dizzying shock of my fall it was to find the triumphant eyes of Zarelli regarding me. Already my arms were secured. "Get up!" Zarelli commanded. As I staggered to my feet, he smote me across the face with his riding whip. From one or two of his. [221] Count Falcon of the Eyrie companions there was a murmur of expostulation, to which he gave no heed. "You see I lose no time in beginning the repayment of old scores," said he. I looked at him and at my other captors without re- plying. Bembo had disappeared. At me the brunt of the attack had been aimed, and he had contrived to win away. Save Zarelli, the men about me, in part at least, were guests of the Duke, this I saw by their bearing and dress. My enemy had reasoned unerringly and had wrought swiftly. With whatever message he had brought he had gained credence from the Duke, and had, with the latter's assent and aid, spread a wide snare into one mesh of which I had fallen. Horses were led from an adjacent covert, and as we rode toward the Four Towers, I secured behind one of my captors, we fell in with other parties that, at Zarelli's instigation, had evidently been hastily sent forth. I had been over confident, and had not grasped at the possibility of a blow that should fall with such dire surety and speed. Against what my capture might portend I resolutely set my thoughts. [222] CHAPTER XX The Duke's Mercy THE Four Towers was a castle and a palace combined. It was a whim on the part of the Duke of Riletto that led to its construction, and he had given the whim full sway. Primarily the building had been intended for use only during the late summer and autumn, — the hunting season, — ^but the Duke grew to be so fond of the retreat that he fre- quently made it his residence during a portion of the springtide, and the oftener he repaired thither the more did he embellish the interior of the massive square structure with its abutting towers, and likewise the grounds that encompassed it. It was from a narrow window in one of the rooms of the north and easterly tower that I watched the sun mount above the forest the morning following my seiz- ure by Zarelli. As may be imagined, my rest had not been of the gentlest. Of what awaited me I was in utter ignorance. I had been conducted to the room which I occupied on my arrival, and from that hour had put eyes upon no one save the servant who set my supper within the door. Ere the closing in of eve the [223] Count Falcon of the Eyrie day previous I had seen many gentlemen and ladies gaily dressed, wandering in the gardens upon which one of my windows looked, and I concluded that a large and brilliant gathering, nobles from the capital and the chief cities of the dukedom, must be housed within the walls of the castle-palace. I recalled stories that I had heard of the Duke's lavish entertainment, and judged that a grand hunt had been arranged to take place to which all these folk had been bidden. Would the Duke give himself the pleasure — for pleasure it would be to him doubtless — of putting me out of existence before the out-riding into the forest in pursuit of game that had yet to be run to earth ? Would my end be a public spectacle? Thus I had begun to muse, as the sun peered into my contracted room, for though my cour- age was by no means shattered, the night had robbed me of the power to put thoughts of what was probably to be my fate from my mind. Was Elisabetta cognizant of my capture? I was sure that she could not be. Somewhere within the space of those great castle-palace walls, I told myself, she was sitting, sick at heart that her father had been so cajoled, so put upon, so deceived — that he had shamed her, for it seemed to me that she must so regard his treatment of her. All this was inference, but the fact that Zarelli was in the ascendant made me sure that the Duchess must be cast down, though by what plausible [224J The Duke's Mercy representation the villain had secured his triumph I could not remotely conceive. While I was engaged in taking what I fancied was likely to be my last view of the pageant of sunrise, my morning repast — some fruit and bread and wine — was passed in to me. While I was eating a ringing horn sounded again and yet again. From the opposite side of the castle a chorus of furious bays arose from the kennels. By and by a bell struck clangingly. Then the door of my prison was thrown back, and two men, evidently officers of the Duke's guard, stood in the opening with bared swords. "You are to accompany us, Signore," said one of them. I had no choice. Go with them I must, or be igno- miniously bound, and haled forth. I bowed, signifying my assent, and with one leading and the other following, I descended to a wide corridor, along which I walked between them. There were sev- eral turns, another descent, this time down a broad staircase hung with trophies of the chase, and then, at a ■word from one of my conductors, a great door was swung inward, and a lofty hall revealed. A single glance conveyed to me the significance of the scene. This was the place of my execution, and the lords and ladies appareled for the chase were there to see me die. At the extremity of the hall, upon a dais, sat the Duke ; [225] Count Falcon of the Eyrie just below him on his right, my evil genius, Zarelli; and still below him, as in a court of justice, two scribes to take down such statement of confession as might be made. Into one corner, that upon the left of the Duke, had been trundled the instrument of torture which was to snap my bones like straws — the dreaded wheel. It was no vast surprise to me, that which I faced, and I did not seek to draw back, but strode between the two who had guided me as unconcernedly as though the whole affair was a piece of mummery. Straight up to within half a dozen paces of where the Duke sat they led me, and then paused. What they expected of me I knew not, but I advanced another pace, and knelt an instant in token of homage. There had been whispers, loud and low, on all sides, but when I arose you could not catch the indrawing of a breath. Full into the eyes of the Duke I looked, nor did I take my gaze from his face. At Zarelli I did not even condescend to glance. His Grace of Riletto, Benedetto Castelbarco, was a man of imposing mien. In a wave of gray his hair swept back from a noble forehead. His eyes and those of his daughter were the same, — large, lustrous, and searching. His mouth was full, his nose slightly aqui- line, his chin, the outline of which was visible through a somewhat sparse beard, shapely. He returned my [226] The Duke's Mercy look with an even sternness, and by no sign recognized my obeisance to him. "You are," said he, "that Guido dei Falchi, who, in Rome, six years since, was adjudged guilty of the mur- der of Girolamo Nardi, who escaped, and upon whose head a price was, and is still, set?" "I am he," I responded, my voice full and clear. "As the Pope's ally and friend I feel empowered to execute upon your body the sentence passed thereon by the court convened by his Holiness at the time of the murder. Have you any statement to make?" "I am not guilty!" my tone was ringing, but not defiant. "So you stated at your trial," answered the Duke ^^'ith fierce scorn, "in the face of most overwhelming proof to the contrary." "So I say again in this presence!" I cried, wheeling about, and looking upon those gathered in that lofty hall. Fair women they were and courtly, and brave men, but not upon a single countenance did I find a gleam of belief or sympathy. Then of a sudden there was a slight click, the door by which I had entered opened, framing the figures of Elisabetta and the Bishop of Spetto. The face of the Duke went snow-white with wrath. "By heaven, Monsignore, how dare you?" he cried. "You transcend your office." [227] Count Falcon of the Byrie The expression upon the features of Elisabetta was one of bewilderment. She came slowly forward, Del Cerda, in no whit abashed, accompanying her. From side to side ranged the glance of the Duchess, then at last her eyes met mine, she saw the men with swords still drawn beside me, and into her countenance there leaped the same sharp anger that had burned upon the countenance of her father when I had reiterated my innocence. She sprang toward me, and stood beside me before them all. "What means the indignity put upon this gentle- man?" she exclaimed, addressing the Duke. "You, my father, have gathered here all your guests to wit- ness I know not what done; me, your own daughter, you exclude. I demand to know why. Is it that you still think me crazed, as that viper would have you be- lieve I was in Rome?" and she pointed with vehement scorn at Zarelli. Before the Duke could make reply she went on, ad- vancing toward the dais, as she continued. "After an experience of untold wretchedness, of mis- ery, of danger, I returned to you yesterday, eager to ■unbosom myself to you, expecting your sympathy to be roused, your indignation to burn with white heat. What did I meet? A manner I had never known, a fondling as though I were a poor creature bereft of reason, an attempt to stay me in the relation of wrongs [228] The Duke's Mercy that any father, even though his spirit were that of a craven, v\'ould rise into valor to avenge. And now I behold the man who saved me from dishonor, from worse than a thousand deaths, standing before you charged with — what ? Tell me, or I will ask each per- son in the room until I am told." "Your Grace will perceive that the Duchess has be- come violent," exclaimed Zarelli, as Elisabetta ceased. "Would it not be wise to have her removed to her room ?" If Elisabetta had been passion before, she was now ice. "Let my father speak the word," she said measuredly, "and he need never again call me daughter." Demented or not she was his only child, the pride and the joy of his life, and the Duke could not consider carrying out Zarelli's suggestion. Rather he strove to calm his daughter, and at the same time win her over (since she was now a most uncomfortable factor, and one that needs must be placated) to what was going forward. "This gentleman, as you term him," he said, with sliarp emphasis, pointing to me, "you cannot be aware who he is!" "I have only his word for it. But if he bears an- other name than that which he gave me I doubt not that he has good reasons for concealing it." [229] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Most excellent reasons for concealing it from you, certainly, since the name he bears chances to be Gtiido dei Falchi." She became rigid, and said naught for a space, while I grew cold to my finger tips. Then she turned slowly toward me. My blood warmed with a bound, for I saw there was neither reproach nor doubt in her eyes. "Your are that man?" she questioned softly, so soft- ly that her voice was as a caress. "I am that man," I said. "This is he, then," she exclaimed, turning to her father, "who is said to have killed my cousin and caused my brother's death?" "Yes !" cried the Duke, in a tone of thunder. "You may still call me demented, if you will," said she quickly, "but unless I hear the confession from his lips I will never believe he did the foul deed." There they stood face to face, eye to eye, father and daughter, passion incarnate; — the Duke racked with the lust of vengeance, a yearning that the lapse of years had in no wise caused to abate, apparently forgetful now that he believed his child deranged; the maiden grieved to the soul that she had been, as she deemed, rebuffed and slighted and put aside when she expected to be consoled, and the insults that had been heaped upon her avenged, angered that I, her champion, against the suggestion of whose guilt her pure instinct [230] The Duke's Mercy rose in revolt, should be arraigned thus ignominiously and harshly. It was at this crucial moment that the Bishop of Spetto stepped forward and raised his hand. Elisa- betta moved back, and took her place by my side, though she still faced her father defiantly. "Your Grace," said the Bishop, addressing the Duke, "in the name of justice and mercy, since the accused has no other defendant save your daughter, let me speak." His tone was compelling, at the same time quieting. There was that in his personality which dominated even the strong-willed, determined, opinionated ruler of Riletto, who, though he gave no sign of assenting tO' Del Cerda's demand, was silent. Swiftly, succinctly, the friend of my youth spoke of our early intimacy, dwelt upon his knowledge of my character, how I had ever been averse to cruelty, free from any treacherous taint. Then he shifted rapidly to the crime of which he showed a knowledge that sur- prised me, setting forth how it was his belief that one of my nature could never have conceived and carried out aught so monstrous, expressing his opinion that I was the victim of a conspiracy that had never been fathomed. Following these statements, he touched upon my service to Elisabetta in the Furlo Pass, and then most skilfully, most delicately, most ingeniously, [231] Count Falcon of the Byrie put the case of the recent happenings in Rome, en- deavoring to show the Duke that even were his daugh- ter's mind somewhat unbalanced by what she had gone through, so that she gave a distorted version of her ex- periences, yet I was the one to whom the Duke owed his daughter's safe return. He then closed with an expostulation against condemning one who might be innocent, and the remorse and shame that would ensue if one in the Duke's position should discover that he had done an awful injustice when it was too late to right it. Was Elisabetta's father moved? I could not say, for his countenance was as one hewn from granite, and when Zarelli arose and craved permission to be heard he maintained the same silence that he preserved when the Bishop of Spetto had craved speech. Zarelli rehearsed the old story, damning enough, in all truth, and he did it glibly and subtly. Then he tried to show that what I had done for the Duchess was through a cunningly conceived plan to win her regard, re-stated what he had already told the Duke, — that the Contessa degli Orvi was now on her way to the Four Towers to swear to the truth of Elisabetta's illness in Rome, to attest to the unbalanced condition that follow- ed upon the illness during which she had fled from those who had cared for her, persuaded by me that they wish- ed to do her unbelievable wrong. More he added, — lies 1232] The Duke's Mercy of the most outrageous character, yet so deftly woven, so wearing the semblance of truth, that to endeavor to pull them to pieces without a witness were futile. Yet I would have spoken, when he had ended, had not the Duke peremptorily stayed me. But prevent Elisabet- ta's outcry that the man was a monster, and straight out of hell, he could not. Following the words of the Duchess, there was an awesome stillness, then came the Duke's voice, meas- ured and emotionless, for he had been terribly wrought upon by what he still believed to be his daughter's madness. "It was my purpose," he said, "to pronounce and see executed in this place, for the murder of my nephew, the sentence of death upon the person of Guido Orra- belli dei Falchi. Guilty I still hold him to be, yet would I not appear merciless in any eyes," — and his glance rested for an instant upon the Bishop of Spetto, including, with a pathetic wistfulness, Elisabetta. "The man shall have a chance for his life. From this moment he is free," and he made a sign to me that I could go. "He shall have half an hour's respite. Then — well, we are prepared for the hunting! Let him take care !" At that moment the hounds, impatient at being so long in leash without, broke forth into a savage clamor. I thought upon Bernabo Visconti of Milan, and his 1.233] Count Falcon of the Eyrie dogs, and of the tyrant's favorite pastime, that of hunt- ing human beings. I had contemplated death upon the wheel without a shudder, but now I felt a chill that pierced me to the very heart. And this was the Duke's mercy! [234] CHAPTER XXI The Devotion of Elisabetta AFTER I had spoken a low word of farewell to the dazed Elisabetta, Domenico del Cerda \\'alked down the hall with me through the Duke of Riletto's staring guests to the door. "You are the same staunch friend as of yore, Do- menico," I said, as we stood an instant, hand clasped in hand. "All blessings be yours ! If this is the end. I beg that you will bear the tidings to my father who is shut up in the Eyrie, as haply you may know, and comfort him in such way as you can." "I do not believe it to be the end, Guido," cried the friend of my youth, his noble face aglow. "Listen! The thought has just come to me. Several hundred paces beyond the second bend which the road from the castle makes, there is a stream. Did you notice it? No? Well, you cannot miss it if you are upon the watch. Turn up it ; there may be but little water, yet that little will perhaps serve to enable you to throw the hounds from the scent. It is your best chance." "I wish you could read my soul," I said, "for then you would know how deep is my gratitude. Addio, Domenico." [235] The Devotion of Elisabetta "For the first time in my Hfe I would that I wore a sword," said he, "that I might give it to you!" The high faith and courage which shone in his eyes were an inspiration, and when he turned back, and I sprang along the outer corridor toward the great en- trance, I had a sure grip upon all my energies. There were grooms and lackeys and huntsmen without who gazed upon me marvellingly as I sped past them. The hounds, as though some instinct told them that I was to be their first quarry, gave a great outcry as I length- ened my stride. The air of the morning was hearten- ing as a tonic, having as yet taken no lassitude from the sun. The sky was like burnished lapis-lazuli. The woods, sparse about the Four Towers, closed around me as I reached the first curve of the highwa}'. and all the leaves seemed to whisper friendly Avords. As I made toward the second bend, a man started suddenly out of the copse, and there was Bembo at my side. "I have been watching and waiting to aid you, Sig- nor Conte," he said. "I was within stone's cast of the castle this morning till they brought out the hounds." "We must not waste breath in speech, Bcmbo mio," T answered. "It is the hounds I have to fear. They are to loose them soon." "Then I will follow in your tracks," said the hunts- man, "and presently we will separate. Here, do you [236] The Devotion of Elisabetta take this," and he pressed a long knife into my hand. "No, I have another," he averred, as I was beginning to remonstrate. So he swung into step behind me, and we ran on till the second bend was reached and left in the rear, and the stream which Del Cerda had counselled me to as- cend was gained. There was but a thread of water in its bed, but there were pools here and there, and while I saw that I could not with surety leave no scent, I re- alized that, as the Bishop had declared, it was my best chance. Bembo caught my intention as I paused. "Yes," he exclaimed, "we will part here. I will take one direction, you the other." "I was told to go up," I said. "Haste, then," replied he, and he followed me into the stream bed, turning downward to crawl beneath the road, by means of an arch through which the water trickled. Gradually, as I drew away from the highway, the banks of the stream increased in height, now sloping sharply, now offering an easy ascent. At points the little valley was contracted, there being space for naught but the stream ; in other places there were strips of sward, or thickets of myrtle and laurel upon either side ere the ground began to rise. Above loomed the vast woodland. [237] Count Falcon of the Eyrie On I plunged, often slipping and sliding among the stones, leaping from pool to pool, using what caution I might, and yet fearsome of delay. My course was such as a daring rider might readily follow, yet from the nature of the country into which I was penetrating, I hoped that soon horsemanship would be rendered im- possible. And now faint and far borne came the out- cries of the hounds, and the direction from which the sound was wafted led me to conclude that my pursuers had already arrived at the spot where Bembo and I had parted. Already my exertions had begun to tell upon me, though as best I could I had husbanded my strength. Glancing ahead, I saw that the vale was rap- idly becoming a gorge, and jagged rocks were out- cropping from the soil at the sides. Should I climb now, or should I wait? "I will press forv.-ard yet a little before deciding,'" I thought. To my dismay the right bank grew al^ruptly precipitous, and the trend of the stream which had been away from the Four Towers was now obliquely toward it. At this juncture I fell for the first time, striking the earth heavily, dizzying myself so that I swayed as I re- gained my feet. There was naught to do but quit the stream bed, and try the bank upon the left. Even this was a stiff ascent, and I essayed it doubtfully, yet with a desperate persistence. Then I began to feel faint, and crouched in a little hollow about half wa}- to the [238] The Devotion of Elisabetta top. The hounds were coming on, a part of them at least. I could tell b)' their baying when they lost the scent, and when they found it again. I managed to drag myself to a second hollow a little above my first refuge, and here, after resting a space, commenced gathering such stones as I could readily lay hands upon as a possible means of defence, for I realized that I could better make a stand where I was than above in the open wood, as at the crest of the bank the forest was not -thick. There was a bare chance that the hounds would pass the spot where I had quitted the stream, but I did not set much store upon it. I stretched myself out, relaxed my limbs and waited, feeling the while my strength slowly return. Presently there was a whine, a bark, several deep bays, a shout, and a great clattering of loose rocks. I peered through a screen of bracken and counted ten powerful hounds and three horsemen, Zarelli leading. Fifty paces down the gorge from a point opposite where I lay the riders were forced to dismount. When the men finished securing their horses, and began hast- ening forward, several of the hounds had already passed the place where I had abandoned the stream. Then one huge animal, the largest of the pack, stopped suddenly, gave a hoarse yelp, and made directly toward the base of the bank along the path I had taken. Za- relli looked upward in exultation. [239] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "Ah." said he to his two companions, "we are likely to be in at the death !" I could not see the hound now, but I could hear him scrambling toward me with great bounds, and sharp barks as of triumph, while the other dogs were banding below. He was just quitting the hollow where I had first paused when I arose. Simultaneous with Zarel- li's mocking outburst I poised a rock and hurled it at the animal. The jagged stone caught the beast full in the breast, and backward to the very base of the de- clivity he rolled moaning. The other hounds needed not Zarelli's urging to charge upon me. With a second rock ready to hurl, and the knife, Bembo's gift, close clutched in my left hand, I awaited their coming. It was vain to hope to meet them singly, and yet even in the face of odds so fell it was a sense of exhilaration that mastered me, and not despair. But Vvhen the rock left my hand it was to be cast at my feet. I heard a sharp cry, and a command from above. The voice was that of a woman — Elisabetta. I looked itp, and beheld her clambering downward to- ward me. I screamed to her, entreating her to pause, but she did not heed me. She held a long whip, the lash of which she flicked threateningly at the hounds, the while she called to them. They regarded her doubt- fully at first, then stopped in their tracks. Their fierce [240] The Devotion of Elisabetta baying ceased ; they whined, cringed, and finally slunk back. Zarelli was like one bereft of reason. He raged among tlie dogs, trying to urge them upon me, and failing in his attempt, struck one viciously with his foot. In a flash the teeth of the animal were buried in his leg. He gave a shriek of pain, and whipping out his sword, thrust it through the hound's body. The sight of blood, the blood of one of their own number, turned the pack, now without purpose or guidance, into so many demons. A great tawny beast, with slavering jaws, launched himself at ZareUi, and though the dog was impaled upon the man's bloody blade, Zarelli was half overthrown by the impact. Before he could re- gain the use of his sword, the others were upon him; an instant, and he was beneath them, and then — "Mother of God !" moaned EHsabetta at my side, "and it might have been you !" Pallid and unnerved, she was regarding the awful spectacle. My arm went about her and as I drew her to me, she hid her face against my breast, softly sob- bing the while. "Love, my love!" I whispered; "it is naught but what he richly merits, and he brought it upon himself." Zarelli's companions had fled in a wild panic, and there was naught to be feared from the hounds, so I let EHsabetta regain her composure without further word, [241] Count Falcon of the Eyrie more than content, if the truth be told, that she did not offer to release herself from my embrace. At length, with a little sigh, she disengaged herself from my arms, and when our eyes met, ah, but the di- vine tenderness in hers ! I would have caught her to me again had she not cried, "The Bishop! for the moment I quite forgot him!" "The Bishop !" I echoed. "Yes." said she. "I forbade him to leave the bank above, knowing I could deal better with the hounds alone." "Domenico!" I called. "Here I am," came the reply. There was a footfall, and my friend appeared, smil- ing down upon us in a way that told he had stood guard above until he had seen that it was discreet to retire. "We have three horses!" exclaimed Elisabetta; "let us not tarry ! News of what has happened will quickly spread, and the others may pursue." Together we scaled the bank. Below the hounds were still snarling, and I was as anxious as the Duch- ess to be gone. "No thanks to me!" said Del Cerda, when he had mounted, and I would have spoken to him in a strain of gratitude. "It was the Duchessa from first to last." He spurred on ahead, revealing a bridle-path. [242] The Devotion of Blisabetta "The scale will never balance !" exclaimed Elisabetta, anticipating me, as we followed hard after him. "If you will, there shall never be a question of aught save love between us," I called to her. "That is as you will," was her reply, with a look, and a movinting color in her cheek, that filled me with a super-earthly rapture. [243] CHAPTER XXII The Black Death EASTWARD we rode by shady aisle and ferny hollow, crossing the gorge where it lessened in depth, and bending away to the south and west, finally to emerge upon the woodland road. Pres- ently we overtook Bembo swinging forward at a long Tope, and when we had listened to his brief account of how he had drawn off the major part of my pursuers, and then eluded them by an old forest wile, we galloped on again, Bembo mounted behind Del Cerda. Thus, at the blaze of noon, we wound down the hill above Spetto, the town lying a-drowse in its fertile val- ley, girt by olive orchards and broad terraces of vines. Through the Porta Santa Croce we passed, with its ad- joining chapel where the dust of Spetto's patron saint lies entombed in a white sarcophagus that time does not tarnish — this, saith tradition, being due to the fact that while on earth no blemish marred the life of the one resting therein. The great Piazza del Duomo, with the cathedral dominating it, dazzled and swam in the mid-day light, and we were hastening to cross to the opening of the [244] The Black Death Via Angelo, where stood the Bishop's house, our pres- ent goal of refuge, when up the Via Romana, the chief thoroughfare of the town, plunged a caretta to which four horses were attached. At the door of the chief inn, The Lion and the Scorpion, a single postillion pulled up the panting steeds. Springing to the pave- ment, he opened the door of the vehicle, and stepped back as though waiting for whomsoever was within to emerge. Presently, as no one descended, the man ad- vanced, then sprang back with a cry the like of which, for sheer abject terror, I had never heard fall from human lips. A moment riveted to the spot in stupe- faction, and an instant later gazing this way and that, he finally made off in the direction from which he had come, fleeing as though from the fiends of the pit. Already we had reined our horses in wonder. What dread thing did the caretta contain ? While we looked questioningly upon it, a figure, tall, clad in robes whereon we caught the red distinctive of the Cardinal's office, stepped painfully from the interior, clutched at the inn door-post, and dragged itself slowly into the building. Ere we exchanged a syllable there arose a second cry, one of dismay and terror like the first, and forth from the inn bounded a man, hatless and frenzied. " 'Tis Messer Pocetti, the inn-keeper!" cried Del Cerda. "What is it ? what is it ?" he shouted to him. The inn-keeper heard, and ran toward us. [245] Count Falcon of the Eyrie "The plague! my God, the Black Death!" he screamed, with frantic gesticulation. Then there were other mad shrieks from the inn, and forth poured guests and menials, men and women in a ■distracted stream. All about the piazza from windows and from doors questioning faces peered. "The plague! The Black Death !" The words were caught up, and swirled like straws before the wi^d through the streets of Spetto. To every human soul that heard recurred the awful exper- ience through which the town had passed three years before, when the dead lay unburied in the highways and the houses, when every citizen feared his neighbor, when famine stalked upon the heels of the pestilence, and complete annihilation might have resulted save for the courage of Domenico del Cerda, then a priest con- nected with the cathedral. Of his courage, that never for an instant faltered, I learned later from Elisabetta. It was he who took the initiative now. WJiile there was a furious flight in all directions out of the piazza, a clanging to of doors, a clashing of casement shutters, he dismounted, — Bembo had already slipped to the ground, — and requested that the huntsman take the horse's bridle. "This matter must be looked into," he said, "and I am the one to do it. The Duchess knows my resi- [246] The Black Death dence, and will lead you thither. You must use the house as though it were your own." "You shall not go alone!" I exclaimed, likewise dis- mounting, "I am no stranger to the Black Death," — and there rose before me my fearsome experience upon a plague ship the year following my enlistment in the Venetian service — "I will accompany you. Bemba shall attend the Duchess." "Guido," said my friend, "think what you would do !" and his glance rested upon Elisabetta. "I have no fear," said the Duchess decisively, and I interpreted the look she bent upon me as an approval of my action. "Yonder is an apothecary who has not closed his shop," said I, pointing to an elderly man who was re- garding us from what, with the exception of that of the cathedral and the inn, was the one remaining open door in the piazza. "He will doubtless furnish us with fumigants." Again the Bishop endeavored to dissuade me from accompanying him, but I was firm. "You cannot move me," said I. "Something impels me, and I will not be refused. I am immune myself, and as for danger to — " "I have known the pestilence about me everywhere,"" interrupted the Duchess, forestalling what further I might have said, "and it did not touch me. Why [247] Count Falcon of the Eyrie should it touch me now? And why, too," she de- manded of the Bishop, "should one brave man forsake another in need ? Not for me." Del Cerda made no further remonstrance. "The apothecary there, Messer Vallardi, was my chief aid in the sorrowful visitation of three years ago. He will not refuse his assistance now," said the Bishop. Elisabetta was determined upon accompanying us to the shop of the man of simples, and, furthermore, she insisted that there she would await our return. We possessed ourselves of resinous tapers and acrid combustible powders, and over our garments drew cloaks of thin glazed cloth which the apothecary de- clared Vv'ould prevent the dissemination of contagion. Thus accoutred, we sought the inn, the apothecary, sim- ilarly garbed, striding behind us bearing a box of drugs. Without the door of the hostelry we lighted our tapers. Then we stepped within, the Bishop in ad- vance. Traversing a wainscoted hallway, we paused in the wide entrance to the common-room, and there, a few paces from us, outstretched upon a bare, low- backed wooden seat we beheld the man of the caretta, and the man was Giovanni Orrabelli, my uncle. His face was the hue of rain-soaked ashes. One hand hung limply down, the tips of the fingers touching the floor. With the other he clutched spasmodically at his vest- ments which he had torn open at his throat, revealing [248] The Black Death his breast, upon which the sickening gangrenous spots were already visible. "He is as good as dead !" said the apothecary behind me beneath his breath. It was the truth. The Cardinal's life was declining with every labored breath he drew. His features lighted with recognition at the sight of the Bishop, and he motioned for him to approach ; me he seemed not at first to see. Then his eyes fastened themselves on mine. He gasped, and straightened himself a little. In his look there was nothing but evil. "Where is Zarelli ?" he demanded. "Dead," said I laconically, unmoved to pity. "I suppose," and his laugh was as that of a fiend, "you will call it all God's work when I am dead, too." The Bishop uttered an exclamation of horrified ex- postulation. "Faugh!" ejaculated the dying man. Then his ex- pression changed, and his mind seemed to wander. His words for a time were incoherent, but at length they grew clear again. "It was Zarelli who did it !" he averred. "Ascanio admitted him from the garden after he had drugged your wine, my simple Guido. Ah, it was so easily managed, and all was working so smoothly until that accursed jailer played us his scurvy trick, and contrived your escape." [249] Count Falcon of the Eyrie So the truth was out at last, and there were Del Cerda and the apothecary as witnesses to my uncle's words. On he went, revealing the whole dreadful conspir- acy, dwelling upon his efforts to gain supreme power in Rome and throughout Italy, laying bare how he had made such and such an one his tool, execrating, until I fain would have stopped my ears, and the Bishop dropped upon his knees in silent prayer. Then his voice fell away into inarticulate sounds again, to break out once more into awful curses upon one of his body-servants who had brought the plague with him inland from Ostia. Finally, his lids fluttered shut, and he ceased speaking. Then the Bishop began praying aloud. At the sound the Cardinal drew a hissing breath. Del Cerda paused, caught from his breast a silver crucifix, and held it toward the bloodless lips of the man before him. The Cardinal's eyes unclosed and fixed themselves upon the holy emblem. His hand went out convulsively, not to grasp but to smite it, and in that last sacrilegious effort he fell to the floor lifeless. [250] CHAPTER XXIII In the Piazza del Duomo HAVING strewn the floor of the room with acrid powder, we hurriedly secured the doors, cast aside our cloaks in the hall, and hought the open air completely unnerved by what we had witnessed. "The body had best be disposed of at once," said Del Cerda to the apothecary, as we crossed the piazza. "I will look to it, Monsignore," returned Messer Vallardi. "Shall I then report to the Podesta?" "It were well to. Impress upon his mind that the probability of any spread of the plague is most remote, so that he may send forth a proclamation and reassure the people." Elisabetta emerged from Messer Vallardi's shop as we approached. She said naught, but looked upon us questioningly. "You had best tell her," said the Bishop. "The man is dead," I announced. "It is my uncle, the Cardinal Orrabelli." If I found it difficult to re- press a certain exultation who will blame me? Think what his passing, and the revelation he had made, [251J Count Falcon of the Eyrie meant to me! — rehabiliment, justice, the right to mingle with my fellows without subterfuge or dread of hearing my own name spoken. "The Cardinal Orrabelli!" ejaculated the Duchess, "dead here of the plague!" "One of his servants brought it from Ostia, so he averred," explained Del Cerda. "It is difficult to say when his Eminence was seized by it. The postillion evidently knew nothing of his ailment, for you recall how terrified the man was when he looked into the caretta. The Cardinal perhaps thought to escape in- fection by flight, and may have been overcome while on his journey. Evidently he was on his way to his Assisi palace." "It is very dreadful," said Elisabetta, "and yet — " "Aye," the Bishop exclaimed, as the Duchess did not finish her sentence, "it was terrible beyond words! But he exonerated Guido of the Vatican crime, though perhaps, unwittingly, and for that praise be to God!" "Amen!" said Elisabetta and I in a breath. "It was Zarelli who did the deed through the con- nivance of my imcle and cousin," I explained to the Duchess. "I can look the world in the face at last." Then the eyes of my beloved began to brim with tears. There came home to her on a sudden the part her father had played in the whole miserable business — how he had been hoodwinked and duped. I divined [252] In the Piazza del Duomo her thought, and taking both her hands in mine, I en- deavored to comfort her by the assurance that I bore him no ill will, that I freely forgave, if there were need of forgiveness; moreover, I begged her to forget his treatment of her, trying to show her how his long brooding over the death of her brother and cousin had doubtless warped his judgment in matters that con- cerned his loss. "You are most generous," said she, smiling upon me through her tears. "Can I not afford to be?" I answered meaningly; whereat she blushed a little, and rewarded me with a glance that made me long to take her in my arms then and there. Bembo had already gone forward with the horses at the suggestion of Del Cerda, and we were upon the point of following when the sound of riders drawing near along the Via Santa Croce, the street by which we had approached the piazza, arrested our steps. Pres- ently the Duke of Riletto, at the head of half a score of his retainers and guests, entered the square. He reined his steed, evidently surprised at the silence and absence of life, and then catching sight of us advanced toward us. The Bishop stepped forward to meet him. "There is Daniele Arrigo who commanded my es- cort!" exclaimed Elisabetta, pointing out one of the foremost members of the Duke's train. "Perhaps my [253] Count Falcon of the Eyrie father by this time realizes that my mind was not un- balanced." "Welcome to Spetto, your Grace!" we heard Del Cerda say, "though I would that I had pleasanter news than that with which I must greet you!" "In God's name, what now, Monsignore?" the Duke returned, and methought his gaze passed over the head of the Bishop and rested upon Elisabetta and myself. "The Cardinal Orrabelli lies dead of the plague in yonder inn," said Del Cerda, indicating with a wave of his hand where my uncle had breathed his last. "Be- fore he died," my friend went on, not heeding the startling effect of his statement upon his listeners, "he confessed in my hearing that it was Michele Zarelli, who, through his instigation, killed your nephew in his room in the Vatican." "I am in no wise astonished," cried out Arrigo from behind the Duke. (Later we learned that Arrigo was the only one of the escort of the Duchess who suc- ceeded in eluding pursuit, and winning away alive.) "Naught will surprise me now," said the Duke of Riletto, with a mournful shake of his head. "It appears that for years I have cruelly wronged, and of late grievously persecuted, two noble gentlemen ; that I have blindly treated the only child left to me with inhuman- ity, that I have been a dupe and a fool." He dismounted and came toward us. [254j In the Piazza del Duomo "Father!" cried EHsahetta, and in another instant she was in his arms. Then he put her aside. "Count Falcon," he said to me, as he stood before me regarding me waveringly, "a broken man craves your forgiveness and your pity. My daughter read you truly. Perhaps for her sake you will try to forget the past." "Your Grace," I answered, "the past died with my uncle, Giovanni Orrabelli. Let us both, if we may, veil it from our sight forever!" Hardly had the words passed my lips when there arose the sharp ring of iron-shod hoofs upon the stones of the Via Romana. With mingled surprise and ap- prehension all of us awaited the advent of the rider. Into the piazza he plunged, a crouching shape upon a reeking steed. He caught sight of the caretta near the inn-door, and pulled up with a jerk that half unseated him. "Ho, within there !" he shouted. Then, when no one answered his impatient demand, he flung himself to the ground, and approached the portal to stagger back ere he set foot upon the thresh- hold, for the penetrating acrid odor evidently had as- sailed his nostrils. He swung about, and for the first time saw and recognized us and we him. [255] Count Falcon of the Eyrie It was my cousin, Ascanio, all his graces and fine airs gone, a spent and desperate man. "Is he dead?" he asked shrilly, with a gesture to- ward the inn. Not one of us, not even Del Cerda, accustomed though he was to be the bearer of dread tidings, could find a voice to reply to Ascanio Orrabelli. In our speechlessness he had his answer. "Where is ZareUi ?" he now demanded, — his father's very question. Still there was silence. Then the friendly attitude of the Duke and myself must have told him that at last the whole truth was bare. For a second there was a furtive movement on his part, as though he contemplated flight, then out flashed his sword, a seemingly living, quivering thing in the sun, and in another instant, with its point buried deep in his breast, he fell face forward, a corpse, upon the stones of the piazza. [256] CHAPTER XXIV The Riding of the Duke I LAY that night in the house of my friend, Domenico del Cerda, Bishop of Spetto. I can- not say that I slept, though toward dawn I may have dropped awa}'^ into a light slumber, and yet I rose refreshed. My thoughts marched out into the future, as an army goes forth certain of victory. All that I had longed for, nay, more than I had dreamed of but a few swift weeks before, had come, or was soon likely to come, to pass. The six years of suffering and hu- miliation, of exile and of loneliness, were but dim-seen phantoms, ghosts that were to be forever consigned to the grave. Suddenly I had become the boon comrade of Joy. At an early hour Del Cerda and I took to horse, with Bembo and one of the Bishop's men attending us. Through the thoughtfulness of Domenico I had been supplied with raiment more suitable than that which I had been wearing, and when we drew up at the palace of the Duke, who possessed a fine residence in Spetto, which always stood ready for his occupation, it was not a mendicant friar who companioned the Bishop, nor [257] Count Falcon of the Eyrie yet the Capitano Guido Riparto, but rather Count Fal- con of the Eyrie, no more a condemned and hunted assassin, but one on whose name there was now no stain. It was a very gallant company that wound hillward out of Spetto that morning. The proclamation of the Podesta had reassured the town, and the afternoon and evening previous not only had there been many ar- rivals at the Duke's palace from the Four Towers, but the nobility of Spetto had trooped to pay homage to their over-lord. The Duke had announced to all that he would be glad of their presence upon a pilgrimage which he proposed to make upon the morrow, and every cavalier who owned, or could obtain, a fitting steed presented himself at the hour appointed for set- ting forth. It was to Falco and to the Eyrie that he purposed going. Forsooth, he was very humble, this proud man, and it seemed to him good that the world should be a witness to his humility. "It is but little I can do," he said to me, "in the way of reparation for all that you and your father have suf- fered. If I have unknowingly persecuted the inno- cent, yet have I persecuted them (though, as I before assured you, I was no party to Zarelli's vindictiveness, being unaware of his history), and openly will I de- [258] The Riding of the Duke clare my fault. The htst for vengeance rendered me incapable of judging between good and evil." "You will find my father harbors naught against you," I replied, "and as for myself, since you have crowned my life with your sanction of my wooing, it is gratitude I bear you, and nothing else." Side by side Ehsabetta and I rode through that golden morning. Though there were no birds to sing, as when the year is young and the slopes are starred with bloom, yet methought I heard a lyric of love from every bough ; though the brooks were dry, or crept lag- gardly, yet meseemed they danced and lilted with rapture. Everything that I saw spoke to me of hap- piness. So, ere the sun had ascended to its noon-tide height, we came to the vale of Falco, and beheld above the gray walls of the town, the huge ramparts of the Eyrie with the flag of the Falchi still outflung from the topmost turret. As we drew nearer, a sud- den breeze caught the banner's folds and spread them wide, which I took to be a happy omen. At the outset the good folk of Falco thought the ar- rival of the Duke, with such a train, meant a renewal of the attempts to capture the castle, but when an old retainer of the family recognized me riding beside the Duchess, and orders came that all the Duke's soldiers should quit the gates and the battlements, there broke [259] Count Falcon of the Eyrie forth a great clamor of rejoicing, for it was evident, even to the blindest, that there was to be peace. Then, the outposts of those besieging having been called in, our company marched forth from the town, and began climbing the long winding ascent to the Eyrie. The Duke and I, with Elisabetta, led the way, for the road, which is a fine piece of workmanship, per- mits that three should ascend abreast. Just behind us, erect and vastly important, rode a herald, bearing a streaming white pennon, lest those upon the ramparts of the Eyrie should think we intended to overawe with numbers, and make threat of an attack. And now the garrison began to gather upon the walls in gaping mar- velment. On the crest of the gateway tower I could descry Matteo and Cencio ; and so, asking the Duke to bid all to halt for a moment, I spurred forward to the edge of the moat alone. When I lifted my plumed hat there was a murmur which quickly swelled into a mighty shout. "The Duke of Riletto craves an audience with my father," said I to Matteo. "He comes in friendship." Presently there was a great rattling of chains and bars, down fell the drawbridge with a clash and clatter, and, at a wave of my hand, the Duke conducted the train forward. Never had the Eyrie seen a more impres- sive gathering. Upon all there assembled, from the wide entrance steps to the castle-hall, gazed my father, [260] The Riding of the Duke calm-eyed, self-contained, benignant, even when he knew at heart that this was the hour of his triumph and mine. I assisted Elisabetta to dismount, and, taking her hand, advanced behind the Duke. "Prince," said the ruler of Riletto, baring his head, and making obeisance before my father, "I am come as a suppliant to ask your forgiveness. My eyes have been opened to my terrible mistake. I pray hence- forward there may be peace and amity between us. Here is my pledge of it," and he turned, with a look of deep affectiori, to his daughter. "A most lovely pledge, Duke," replied my father, with that rare smile of his which wholly won Elisa- betta's heart. , To the Duke he gave his hand ; then he stepped down and kissed Elisabetta upon the forehead ; finally he em- braced me. "Peace, friendship, love!" he exclaimed, including us in his glance. "Already more than my fondest hopes pictured to me has come true. Forgiveness! Let there be no such thought between us, Duke! When once I have heard the whole story, afc much of which I can now guess, the past shall be as a dead thing. Ours is the living present and the fair future !" Sf* 'K ^ •!* "I* "i* [261J Count Falcon of the Eyrie Very busy I was all through the following hours of that day. There was the entertainment of the Duke's train to be looked to, and a castle which has been for weeks standing siege is not likely to offer rich store for banqueting. But, despite this fact, and despite the famine, somehow the board in the great hall was spread, and there was good fellowship, if not good feasting. With Matteo I must confer in regard to this and that, hear from Cencio's lips an account of the sin- gular wile by which Zarelli managed to free himself and his companion, press upon ray father Bembo's re- instatement, and, moreover, relate my share in the strange succession of events that had culminated so happily. Not until the sunset hour, after most of those who had accompanied us to the Eyrie had departed, did I get speech alone with Elisabetta. Then I led her forth from the great hall, where the Duke and my father were discussing policies and alliances, to a westward- looking seat upon the battlements. In the distance the sharp ridge of II Dente cut into the rose and lemon- gold of the sky; below, the shadows were already in- vading the woods of Pino, while faintly from beneath the further walls was borne to us the murmur of the Acqua Nera, chafing in its channel. [262] The Riding of the Duke It was love's very hour, and there, as the twilight deepened, folding its impalpable mantle of violet about us, love was our sole theme. "And when, Elisabetta," I asked of her, after one of those fond silences that to lovers' souls are more ex- pressive than any language, "when will you be my wife?" As though in reply rose the voice of a solitary sentry who was pacing to and fro in the court before the bar- bican. Strong and sweet the song swelled up to us : — Love, ere the last of the red roses falls, And Winter whines about the castle walls. Crown thou my life with rapture! Let me know An end of waiting and an end of woe, Love, ere the last of the red roses falls! Elisabetta repeated softly, after a moment : — " 'Love, ere the last of the red roses falls !' " [263]