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 [ The struggle in Ferraraa story of the R 
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 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
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THE 
 
 Struggle in Ferrara 
 
 A STORY OF THE 
 
 REFORMATION IN ITALY. 
 
 By WILLIAM GILBERT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " DE PROFUNDIS," ETC. 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 By F. a. FRASER. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT AND CO 
 
 1871. 
 
resid'iit White , 
 . Library 
 
 9w) 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTKR I. THE MONK. 
 
 N a calm 
 evening in 
 the month of 
 May, 1 5 54, 
 a man in the 
 dress of a 
 Capuchin 
 Friar, having 
 a half-filled 
 wallet slung 
 over his 
 shoulder and 
 a stout staff 
 in his hand, 
 wended his 
 way towards 
 Ferrara. Al- 
 though he 
 was still se- 
 veral miles 
 from the city, 
 he was evi- 
 dently ex- 
 hausted, and 
 appeared to continue his journey with much difficulty. 
 He would frequently stop to rest for a few moments, 
 and then apparently summoning up fresh courage, 
 continue his way for some distance, and then rest 
 again. Beyond the fact that he was somewhat 
 above the middle height, it would have been diffi- 
 cult to judge of his appearance, for although the 
 weather was sultry and oppressive, he wore his cowl 
 so far forward on his head as almost entirely to 
 conceal his features. This was evidendy done 
 purposely, for the sun was already so near the 
 horizon that he had nothing to fear from its rays ; 
 and had he studied his personal comfort, he would 
 naturally have thrown his cowl back on his 
 
 shoulders. To have formed a tolerably correct 
 opinion of his age would have been as difficult as 
 to have judged of his features. True, he stooped 
 considerably in his walk, and his pace was slow 
 and deliberate, but these might rather have been 
 occasioned by exhaustion and fatigue than by the 
 weight of years ; and this supposition was still 
 farther increased by the accumulation of dust on 
 his sandalled feet and on the edge of his frock. 
 
 As he journeyed onwards a singular peculiarity 
 was observable in the Friar. As a rule, his order 
 were habitually most communicative, entering wil- 
 lingly into conversation with all who addressed 
 them ; and as they were generally looked upon as 
 the newsmongers of the country districts, few 
 passed them without exchanging at least some sen- 
 tences. With our Friar, on the contrary, this was 
 far from being the case ; and he appeared to avoid, 
 as much as possible, the peasants he met, taking 
 care to pass them on the opposite side of the road, 
 and returning with courteous, though few words, 
 the remarks they made when they had reached him. 
 
 Night began to set in, and stars, one by one, to 
 shine forth in the heavens, while myriads of fire- 
 flies illuminated the fields by the side of the road, 
 flashing their lovely light with such brilliancy as 
 almost to dazzle the eye. The calm beauty of the 
 Italian sunset, however, appeared to have no 
 charms for the wayfarer, and he continued on his 
 road till he had nearly reached Mal-Albergo, 
 situated on the banks of the river, nearly oppo- 
 site to the principal gates of Ferrara, when the 
 sound of the church bells calling the congrega- 
 tions together for the benediction, warned him that 
 he had nearly arrived at his journey's end. But 
 instead of hurrying on to secure a place in the last 
 ferry-boat, he suddenly stopped short, and seating 
 himself on a bank by the road-side, appeared to 
 meditate deeply, as if undetermined what course 
 
 5 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 to pursue, evidently wishing to reach the termina- 
 tion of his journey, yet for some strong cause 
 hesitating to enter the city. 
 
 He remained for some time seated, alternately 
 glancing at the lights which began to appear in 
 the city as night advanced, and then on the road 
 and country around him, as if anxious to meet with 
 some person to whom he could apply for informa- 
 tion. No one, however, appeared; and he rose 
 from his seat, and turning his cowl back on his 
 shoulders, proceeded onwards for a few paces, when 
 he again suddenly stopped, and retraced for some 
 distance his steps, looking eagerly on each side of 
 the road, as if trying to distinguish whether there 
 might be any habitation near. At last he saw a 
 light in a meadow at a little distance from the road. 
 He was on the point of proceeding to it, when he 
 suddenly halted, as if to determine what the light 
 might be, for it appeared to be too close on the 
 ground and too bright to be in any dwelling. The 
 idea then struck him that it might merely be a 
 will-o'-the-wisp hanging over the marshes, as was 
 common at that season in the districts around Fer- 
 rara; but a moment's thought told him that this 
 could not be so, as the colour was too red. 
 
 He now hesitated no longer. Leaping from the 
 bank, he approached the light, though with some 
 difficulty, his steps being impeded by the brushwood, 
 and his feet clogged by the swampy nature of the 
 soil. Still he pushed onward, and at last came 
 close to the light, which he found to proceed from 
 four torches 'tied together, their shafts stuck into 
 the grounc^.? At first he was greatly puzzled how 
 to act, AS he saw no one near, nor could he divine 
 for what purpose the torches had been placed there ; 
 but at length he perceived a man some ten or twelve 
 yards from the light, seated on a stone, his elbows 
 on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. 
 
 The Friar again drew his cowl over his head, 
 and, without hesitation, walked up to the man, and 
 said softly to him, 
 
 " My son, are you asleep ?" 
 
 " I am not ; but had I been, I should hardly 
 have thanked you for waking me," was the uncour- 
 teous reply of the man, who still remained in the 
 same position, with his lace buried in his hands. 
 
 " I am sorry to disturb you," said the Friar, 
 " but you would greatly oblige me by telling me if 
 there is a ferryman anywhere near who could row 
 me over to the city." 
 
 " The only one near here," replied the man, 
 without raising his head, "is the one at Mal- 
 Albergo ; but I suspect you will be too late for him, 
 as he must have left off work half an hour since." 
 
 " But I did not wish to enter the city by the 
 Strada del Po, and I had a dim recollection that 
 there was another ferry farther up the river." 
 
 "You are a stranger, then?" said the man, still 
 maintaining the same position. 
 
 " Not altogether," said the Capuchiru " I have 
 visited Ferrara more than once already; but the 
 last occasion was several years ago." 
 
 " It must be a strong temptation that induces 
 
 you to return to it again," said the man sardoni- 
 cally. " It is the last place in the world I should 
 wish to visit, if I could once get clear out of it." 
 
 " Still, that is hardly an answer to my inquiry. I 
 asked you if I could find a ferry-boat farther up the 
 river ; and if you are able to answer the question, 
 you would greatly oblige me by doing so." 
 
 "There is another ferry-boat about half-a-mile 
 farther on," said the man ; " but you will find some 
 difficulty in reaching it through the swamps ; and 
 then, again, you will not get Giacomo, the ferryman, 
 to leave his bed at this time of night without being 
 well paid for it. I know him too well for that." 
 
 " That is unfortunate for one of my order," said 
 the Friar ; " for we rarely carry money with us, and 
 I have none." 
 
 ♦The man here raised his head for a moment and 
 gazed at the Friar with much curiosity and evident 
 interest. Then rising from his seat, and taking off 
 his cap, he said, in a tone of respect which strongly 
 contrasted with the abrupt manner in which he had 
 hitherto replied to the Friar's inquiries— 
 
 " Ah ! pardon me. Reverend Father, I did not 
 know who I was speaking to, or I should not have 
 been so uncivil. What can I do to serve you ? " 
 
 " Thanks, my son," said the Friar ; " all I wish 
 is to enter the city by the Porto San Giorgio. Can 
 you assist me in doing so, by telling me in what 
 manner I can cross the river, for I tell you candidly 
 I have no money to pay the ferryman ? " 
 
 " And I am sure Giacomo, who is little better 
 than a pig of a heretic and an imp of Calvin him- 
 self, would rather go without his money than row 
 you over, monk as you are, even if you could pay 
 him. But he will soon have his reward ; the times 
 are now fast changing ; the heretics have had their 
 day, and now ours is coming." 
 
 The Friar, from under his cowl, examined his 
 companion minutely, lit up as he was by the burn- 
 ing torches. He was an old man, about seventy 
 years of age, with low forehead, deep sunk, spark- 
 ling black eyes, indicative of great cunning, and 
 sickly, swarthy, sallow complexion. His dress, 
 which was that of the poorer class, was covered 
 with mud, with which his feet and hands were also 
 begrimed. Altogether, he was of most repulsive 
 appearance. His demeanour to the Friar was now, 
 however, most respectful, and even courteous. 
 
 " You seem to take the behaviour of your friend 
 Giacomo much to heart," said the Friar ; " but can 
 yoii tell me of any other way by which I could 
 cross the river ? " 
 
 " Wait one moment. Reverend Father," said the 
 man; and then advancing towards the torches, 
 and examining a sort of leather trap, something 
 like a long wide-mouthed bag, which had been 
 placed on the ground before the light, tjut in which, 
 he found nothing, he said, with an expression of 
 anger on his countenance — 
 
 " It's all useless, all in vain ; nothing seems to 
 prosper. I believe the anger of Heaven is directed 
 against the city and all the country around it. It's 
 no use my remaining longer here ; and it's better 
 
:he"struggle in ferrara. 
 
 for me to be in my bed, than run the risk of catch- 
 ing the plague in these marshes." 
 
 Then, taking up the leather-bag, and throwing it 
 over his shoulder, he snatched up the torches, and 
 throwing them on the ground, extinguished the 
 flame, leaving himself and the Friar with no more 
 light than was afforded by the fire-flies sparkling 
 around them. 
 
 " Reverend Father," he then continued, " I will 
 row you across the river myself, for I have a boat 
 fastened to tlie shore, a few hundred yards from 
 here ; and then, as you are almost a stranger, I will 
 accompany you to the gate of San Giorgio, and put 
 you in your way to the Capuchin convent, where, 
 I suppose, you will lodge for the niglit. It will be 
 better for me to accompany you than Giacomo, 
 even if you could get him to leave his bed." 
 
 "Why so?" I 
 
 " Because, as I told you before, Giacomo is a 
 heretic, and every one he ferries over is examined 
 at the gates, and a hundred questions asked, such 
 as, with whom they are acquainted in the city? 
 what their business is there ? how long tliey intend ' 
 stopping? and many other inquiries of the same 
 sort. Now, with me it is different. I am known 
 as a good Catholic, who wculd no more bring a 
 heretic into the city than the plague itself" j 
 
 The Friar made no reply to the man's obser- 
 vation, but thanked him warmly for his offer of 
 assistance, and the two started off towards the river. ; 
 
 " You observed, my son," said the Friar, "that you | 
 might as well be in bed as run the risk of catching 
 the plague in these marshes ? Do I understand ' 
 you to mean that the plague is again in Ferrara?" 
 
 " Well, I cannot state for a certainty that it is," 
 said the man; "but several cases very like it have 
 already been sent to the Lazaretto. But that it will 
 come, there can be Uttle doubt ; and terrible in- 
 deed will it be when it does come." 
 
 " What makes you think so, my son ?" 
 
 " Because Heaven, in its anger at the favour 
 shown to heretics, has already withdrawn from us 
 all means of curing the plague ; and when it comes 
 we shall have to submit to it without help." 
 
 " Don't you take too gloomy a view of the case ?" 
 said the Friar. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied the man. " Who knows 
 better than I do ? Have I not been there where 
 you found me night after night, burning my torches, 
 which cost me three soldi a-piece, without any re- 
 turn, leaving me a loss both of time and money ? " 
 
 " But I don't understand in what way that proves 
 tliat it would be useless to adopt any remedies 
 against the plague. What were you seeking for ?" 
 
 " Seeking for ! " replied the man somewhat 
 angrily. " Why, for the only secure remedy but 
 one against the plague — vipers, to be sure ! Here 
 I have been night after night trying to catch them, 
 and, as I said before, burning my torches to no 
 purpose, and have not caught three in a week. In 
 the days of the last Duke, I have frequently known 
 ten to be caught in a night, and once my son-in-law 
 as many as nineteen. Then, again, no 
 
 caught 
 
 more scorpions are to be found in Bologna, and 
 without scorpions and vipers how will it be possible 
 to cure the plague-stricken ? I speak from ex- 
 perience. When the plague was in Ferrara, about 
 the time of the marriage of the Duchess Renee — 
 evil befall her ! — we had abundance of vipers, and 
 many were cured of the plague ; but now we shall 
 be utterly at its mercy, and bound hand and foot 
 when it comes." 
 
 " But why do you say, ' Evil befall the Duchess 
 Rende,' my son?" asked the P'riar. " What has she 
 done to offend you ?" 
 
 " Offend me !" replied the man. " Has she not 
 offended the whole country, and Heaven itself, by 
 introducing into Ferrara the swarm of heretics who 
 came in her train ? And has Ferrara ever flourished 
 since ? No ! I know it better than any one, for 
 everything has gone wrong with me since I first 
 saw her fece. I had then a good appointment, 
 which I had held for years, giving perfect satisfac- 
 tion to every one, but before she had been here 
 three years 1 lost it." 
 
 " But was the loss of your appointment caused 
 by any fault of the Duchess Renee ?" 
 
 "Certainly it was. For twenty years I had 
 turned the hands of the clock in the Rigobello 
 tower, but some heretic French or Swiss, who 
 came with her, proposed that the hands of the 
 clock should be moved by wheels, weights, and 
 ropes, and the old Duke Alfonso, her father-in-law, 
 who was always too fond of new ideas, agreed to 
 it. Two years afterwards all was completed, and 
 after twenty years' service I was discharged." 
 
 " But, after all, it appears to me that, if you have 
 any complaint, it should be against the old Duke 
 Alfonso and not the Duchess Rende, as she seems 
 to have had nothing to do with the alteration." 
 
 "Nothing to do with it!" said the old man 
 testily. " If she had not come here at all, the man 
 who proposed the alteration would not have been 
 in her train, and a good Catholic — sinner as I am 
 — would not have been thrown out of bread by a 
 foreign heretic." 
 
 " But surely you do not mean to say that, after 
 so many years' service, you were dismissed without 
 compensation ? That seems hardly to correspond 
 with the. character I have heard of Duke Altonso, 
 who appears to have behaved liberally and honour- 
 ably to all." 
 
 " I don't wish to say anything against the old 
 Duke, who was in every respect an excellent 
 Prince, and very kind to every one, as long as they 
 didn't offend him ; but if they did, they might as 
 well have asked mercy of a hungry lion as of him. 
 However, it's true, when they sent me away, they 
 gave me ten scudi and an appointment in the Laza- 
 retto, which I told you of before ; but although the 
 payment was equally good, I didn't like the occu- 
 pation. There was nothing regular about it. It's 
 a very difficult thing for a man who has been accus- 
 tomed for twenty years to do nothing else than turn 
 the hands of a clock to get out of the regular habits 
 and notions he has acquired." 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 " Still, I do not see how that could have inter- 
 fered with your duties in the Lazaretto. Did they 
 not keep regular hours there ?" 
 
 ".Nothing could be more irregular. The sick 
 would come in at all hours, and sometimes two 
 or three together; then perhaps we should have 
 none for a day, and afterwards a rush of half-a- 
 dozen at a time. Then some took their medicine 
 at one hour and some at another ; till at last I told 
 Dr. Castagna that I must leave the establishment, 
 or I should certainly go out of my mind. He 
 replied that he had great pleasure in granting my 
 request, and that I might go as soon as I pleased." 
 
 " And what did you do afterwards ?" 
 
 "Well, I applied for the situation ot bell-ringer at 
 the cathedral, and obtained it, but I soon gave it up." 
 
 " Why was that ?" said the Friar. " I should 
 have thought the regularity of the hours of service 
 would have been agreeable to you." 
 
 " So I expected, but it was far irom being the 
 case." 
 
 "AVhyso?" 
 
 " Well, the hours of service were all regular 
 enough, and for a day or two all went on swim- 
 mingly, but then I began to have conscientious 
 scruples whether I could continue it with salety to 
 my soul, so I gave up the appointment." 
 
 " But what possible scruples of conscience could 
 you have had in such an appointment ? I should 
 have thought it impossible to have found a situa- 
 tion more suited to your taste and capacity." 
 
 " It would have suited me perfectly well had it 
 not been for one circumstance. The Archbishop 
 had ordered that the services were to be regulated 
 by the new-feshioned clock in the Rigobello tower. 
 Now, as the machinery moving the clock had been 
 made by a foreign heretic, it went against my 
 conscience that the services in the cathedral should 
 be regulated by it." 
 
 " I think, my son, you were a little too scrupulous 
 on the occasion," replied the Friar ; " but, at the 
 same time, are you quite sure that personal feeling 
 had not something to do with the matter? I 
 mean, your labours being regulated in some degree 
 by the clock of which you no longer had the 
 control." 
 
 " Possibly that might have had something to do 
 \vith it, Reverend Father;" 
 
 " And what occupation did you afterwards take 
 up ?" 
 
 " I went back to the Lazaretto, and again in- 
 duced them to give me some employment; but I 
 got tired of the irregularity of the hours, and left a 
 second time. Then I offered myseli as an assistant 
 to Bruno, the executioner, but he said I was too 
 old and weak for his work." 
 
 " You surely do not mean to say you would have 
 accepted a situation under the common execu- 
 tioner?" said the Friar, with marked disgust in his 
 tone. " At your time of life, you might have sought 
 for some other employment, no matter how humble." 
 
 " Don't think ill of me, Reverend Father," said 
 the old man. '• Bruno is not the common execu- 
 
 tioner. He only applies the torture and punish- 
 ments to the prisoners in the dungeons of the 
 Inquisition, and executes those who are condemned 
 to death for heresy. I would never have helped 
 the town hangman at the execution of a thief or a 
 murderer. No ; I'm not so low as that." 
 
 " Is your friend Bruno much occupied at pre- 
 sent ? " inquired the Friar after a moment's silence. 
 
 " Every day in one way or another, but princi- 
 pally in the prisons of the Inquisition. We have 
 not had many public executions for heresy lately ; 
 not more than four in the last fortnight. The 
 Duke is away, and the Duchess has more of her 
 own will than she would have if he were here. 
 After all, she would be a brave woman were she not 
 a heretic. Why, they say that Father Pelletario, 
 tRe Duke's confessor, is positively more afraid of 
 her than all the heretics in Geneva put together. 
 But we are now at the river-side, and here is my 
 boat. Get into it, and I will ferry you across." 
 
 Little conversation passed between the Friar and 
 his companion during their passage across the 
 river. Arrived at the other side, the old man 
 tastened his boat to a post by the side of the water, 
 and he and the Friar proceeded to the gate of San 
 Giorgio. 
 
 " Can you tell me," said the Friar to his com- 
 panion, " whether the Duchess is at present in 
 Ferrara ? " 
 
 "She is," replied the man. "She is living at 
 the Palace of San Francesco, where she has a 
 court of her own. They say the Duke and she are 
 not friends. I hope it's the case, though of course 
 I know nothing as to the truth of the statement. 
 This, however, is certain, that when he is in Fer- 
 rara (he is now at his hunting seat at Belriguardo, 
 they say) he lives in the Este palace, while she is 
 at the Palace of San Francesco." 
 
 " But why should you be glad of a misunder- 
 standing existing between the Duke and his wife ? " 
 
 " Because I hate her, and the whole foreign 
 troop with her." 
 
 " Did she ever do you any personal harm ? " 
 
 " No, nor to anyone else that I know of; but she 
 has tried to do a great deal of harm to their souls." 
 
 " In what way ? " asked the Friar. 
 
 " By pretending to do a great deal of good to 
 the poor and needy, helping them in every way 
 that she can. Trying first of all to gain their love, 
 for the purpose of handing them over to the enemy 
 of mankind, whose agent I believe her to be." 
 
 " My son," said the Friar, " let me advise you to 
 speak a little more cautiously. Remember that 
 walls have ears, and the Duchess is still a powenal 
 princess." 
 
 " Her time is coming though, and will soon be 
 here," said the old man. " But I am astonished, 
 Reverend Father, to hear you talk in her praise." 
 
 " I merely speak in your interest, my son," said 
 the Friar mildly. "Even if there should be a 
 disagreement between the Duke and his wife, de- 
 pend upon it, he would punish you for speaking 
 lisrespectfully of the Duchess. With me of course 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 il will go no farther, but let me advise you not to 
 speak in that way before others." 
 
 " You're right, Reverend Father," said the old 
 rnan after a moment's reflection. " Thank you for 
 the hint." 
 
 " I understand, then," said the Friar after a short 
 silence, " that you live in Ferrara ? " 
 
 " I do," replied the man, " and have lived in it 
 since I was a child ; and with the exception of the 
 time when I was pressed as a soldier and made to 
 join the army under the late Duke Alfonso, I have 
 never been ten miles from it in my life. To say the 
 truth, my experience on that occasion gave me 
 little wish to roam. Night after night did I sleep 
 on the damp field, or stand sentry on the river's 
 bank to watch for the approach of the Venetians. 
 Hardships enough I then endured. I had little to 
 eat, no praise, and small pay. If I did my duty I 
 was ordered to do more ; if I attempted to avoid it, 
 my captain flogged me. To end the matter, I was 
 wounded in the last fight, and almost lost my life, 
 and from that time to this I have never had any 
 inclination to leave the city for more than a mile 
 or two at a time." 
 
 " Of course you are well acquainted, then, with 
 Ferrara?" 
 
 " No man better. I think I know every house 
 in it, and every man, woman and child, that is to 
 say, by sight, of course, for I haven't much to say 
 to those above me." 
 
 " Perhaps you can tell me, then, if the Count 
 Biagio Rosetti, — I mean the chief of the twelve 
 Judges, — is in Ferrara at present ? " 
 
 " He is. Reverend Father ; I saw him in court 
 this morning when I went to hear the trial of a 
 friend of mine who had been accused of robbing a 
 Jew. It was an unfortunate thing for him that the 
 Judge Rosetti presided in the court, otherwise I'm 
 sure he would have escaped." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Because, being a Lutheran himself, he naturally 
 favours all schismatics, infidels, and idolaters, and 
 instead of dismissing the case he sentenced poor 
 Beppo to be soundly flogged, as if to steal from a 
 Jew was as bad as to rob a Christian." 
 
 They had now arrived at the gate of San Giorgio, 
 when, to the Friar's dismay, he found it closed. 
 
 " Do not annoy yourself," said the old man, " I 
 know the porter. He is a good Catholic, and will 
 let one wearing your frock into the city without 
 diflSculty. I will speak to him and all will go well." 
 
 The man now proceeded to the wicket gate, and 
 knocking at it requested that it might be opened, 
 saying, that he had with him a Reverend Friar who 
 was going to the convent of San Maurelio, but had 
 been delayed on his road. The porter without 
 hesitation opened the gates, and the Friar and the 
 old man entered. 
 
 " And now, Reverend Father, I am near my lodg- 
 ing. Continue your road straight onward, and you 
 will find your convent in the first street to the left." 
 
 The Friar thanked the man for his courtesy, 
 but instead of entering the street as directed, he 
 
 turned round to see whether he was followed, 
 and finding, after waiting a few moments, that no 
 one approached him, he passed the street leading 
 to the convent, and continued his road till' he 
 reached the Via della Piopponi. For some time 
 after having entered the street he examined care- 
 fully the houses on each side, as if in search of one, 
 but uncertain which it might be. Even after he 
 had twice passed the whole length of the street he 
 appeared undecided, and remained for several 
 minutes in the centre of the road, waiting for some 
 one to approach who might be able to give him the 
 information he required. Presently he saw by the 
 light of the moon, which had now risen, a young 
 man leave the archway of one of the best houses 
 in the street ; and to him he determined to apply for 
 information. Rapidly hurrying after him, he said, 
 
 " Pardon me, my son, for interrupting you, but 
 could you tell me the house of the Count Biagio 
 Rosetti, the chief of the twelve Judges ? " 
 
 " It is but a few steps farther back," replied the 
 young man. " It is the one I just left. Shall I 
 conduct you to it ? " 
 
 " There is no occasion, my son. I noticed the 
 house when you left it. It is that with a light in 
 the window of the room over the archway." 
 
 " It is," said the youth. " But you had better let 
 me conduct you ; the staircase is dark and dan- 
 gerous, and I am sure the Judge would be angry 
 with me, if, after I knew you wished to visit him, I 
 allowed you to run any danger by letting you find 
 your way alone." 
 
 " Do you know the Judge intimately, then ? " 
 inquired the Friar. 
 
 " Without vanity I may say I do," was the young 
 man's reply. " He was my professor when I com- 
 menced my legal studies in Ferrara, and I have been 
 intimate with him for more than three years." 
 
 "Are you an Italian?" asked the Friar. 
 
 "Why do you ask. Reverend Father?" said the 
 youth, with some reserve. "You must either be 
 unacquainted with Ferrara, or you must know that 
 we are not accustomed here to answer questions 
 that every stranger may put to us, without fully 
 understanding his object." 
 
 " I should have thought, my son, that my habit 
 alone would have been sufiicient guarantee that I 
 intended no harm." 
 
 " Hardly, Reverend Father," said the young 
 man. " You know our saying, ' The cowl does not 
 make the monk;' and if the proverb is true any- 
 where, it is certainly so in Ferrara." 
 
 " I meant no offence, my son," said the Friar. 
 " My only reason for asking the question was, that 
 you, while speaking Italian perfectly, appear to have 
 a slight foreign accent." 
 
 " Possibly you expect I may be a Frenchman, 
 or from Geneva," answered the youth, "and, as 
 such, probably of the same religion as the Duchess." 
 
 " Once more, my son, I intended no offence. 
 Why should you speak to me in the manner you do ? 
 You have kindly pointed out to me the house I was 
 searching for, and I need trouble you no further." 
 
lO 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 " True, Reverend Father. Still, I am a free agent 
 in the matter, and would prefer returning with you. 
 If you are really a Friar, as your dress appears to 
 indicate, so warm a professor of the Reformed doc- 
 trines as the Judge might like to have a witness on 
 his side of the conversation which passes between 
 you. If he finds my presence unnecessary or in- 
 convenient, of course I shall leave immediately. 
 But of this I am determined, if you persist in your 
 visit, I shall return with you." 
 
 The Friar hesitated for some minutes, as if in doubt 
 v/hat steps to take. At last he said to the youth, 
 " Are you also a follower of Calvin or Luther ?" 
 
 " Again, Reverend Father, I must remind you 
 it is not our habit in Ferrara to make a confidant 
 of the first comer, however respectable his appear- 
 ance may be. You must see yourself, that were I 
 a Protestant, and therefore in danger of persecu- 
 tion for my religious opinions, a Capuchin Friar 
 is hardly the person I should choose to con- 
 fide my secret to. Once more, will you allow me 
 to be your guide to the Judge's rooms ? And let 
 me add, that if you intend to visit him to-night you 
 must decide quickly, or he will have retired to bed." 
 
 " I thank you for your offer, my son, and will 
 lollow you," said the Friar. 
 
 The youth now returned to the house he had 
 quitted, and on reaching the gateway he took the 
 Friar's hand, to lead him up the dark staircase, 
 which with considerable difficulty they contrived to 
 ascend, proving the truth of the youth's statement, 
 that the Friar would find a guide necessary. On 
 arriving at the first floor, the young man knocked 
 at the door, and in a few moments footsteps were 
 heard approaching it. 
 
 " Who is there ?" inquired a voice from the inside. 
 
 " Good friends," was the reply. " It is I, Camille 
 Gurdon. On leaving your house I was overtaken by 
 a Capuchin Friar, who was seeking you, but did not 
 know your abode, and I have brought him with me." 
 
 " Before I open the door I must know his errand, 
 and who he is." 
 
 " I will explain who I am to your full satisfac- 
 tion, my son,' said the Friar, "if you will allow me 
 to enter. What have you to fear from me ? I am 
 an old man, older than yourself, and besides that 
 you have the support of the youth who has so 
 kindly accompanied me to your house. For 
 mercy's sake do not hesitate, but allow me to 
 enter, for I am sick at heart, and my strength is 
 utterly exhausted." 
 
 " But, Reverend Father,'' said the voice behind 
 the door, " if you are a Capuchin Friar, what busi- 
 ness can you have with me ? Why should you ask 
 hospitality of me when you have your own convent, 
 one of the richest in Ferrara, to receive you ? Do 
 you know me?" 
 
 " Perfectly well," said the Friar, " although it is 
 now some years since I saw you." 
 
 " Tell me your name." 
 
 " I cannot, before a stranger. But why do you 
 hesitate to allow me to enter ? As I said before, I 
 am old and powerless, and you have nothing to 
 
 fear. This I pfofiise you, if you will allow me a 
 moment's interviewjand you then desire me to leave 
 your house, I will do so immediately, even though 
 I should die of exhaustion before your door." 
 
 After a few moment's silence on both sides, the 
 door was opened by a venerable-looking old man, 
 in a velvet robe, with a black skull-cap on his head, 
 and holding a lighted lamp in his hand. Surveying 
 the Friar with great curiosity not unmingled with 
 impatience, he said to him — 
 
 " Reverend Father, if you will neither tell me who 
 you are, nor allow me to see your face, I must 
 request you will immediately leave my house. I 
 am but a bad guesser of riddles, and have no taste 
 for mummery. Once more, let me know who you 
 are, or begone." 
 
 * The Friar advanced a few steps, and when in 
 such a position that his youthful companion could 
 not see his action, he raised his cowl sufficiently to 
 allow the Judge to see his features, and then in- 
 stantly replaced it. A marked change now came 
 over the behaviour of the Judge to his visitor, and 
 with much friendliness in his tone, he asked him 
 to enter, and preceded him to the sitting-room, 
 while the youth remained without to re-fasten the 
 door. As soon as they had entei ed the room the 
 Friar whispered to the Judge — 
 
 " Can you not dispense with the presence of that 
 young man, as I wish to speak with you alone ? " 
 
 " Just as you please," replied the Judge ; " but 
 you have nothing to fear from him. A stauncher 
 adherent to our cause, Ferrara does not hold." 
 
 " If you know him," said the Friar, " I make no 
 further objection. At the same time, I would 
 rather speak with you alone. Were it only my own 
 secret I had to keep, I should not mind his remain- 
 ing, but I am intrusted with those of others as well." 
 
 " I will immediately dismiss him then," said the 
 Judge. Then addressing the young man, who was 
 now entering the room,, he continued : " Camille, 
 my son, you can leave us, as my friend wishes for 
 some private conversation with me. We shall 
 meet again to-morrow." 
 
 The young man bowed submissively to the 
 Judge's remark, and after wishing him good evening, 
 unbolted the door and quitted the house, leaving 
 the Judge and the Capuchin Friar to continue their 
 conversation undisturbed. 
 
 Here we must pause for a short time to speak 
 more particularly of the mysterious monk — Bernar- 
 dino Ochino. Of the many champions of Protest- 
 antism in Italy, few among them had laboured more 
 zealously, or had done better service in the cause 
 of truth, than he. Nature seemed to have espe- 
 cially endowed him both mentally and physically 
 for the fatigues and dangers he had undertaken. 
 In person he was somewhat above the middle 
 height, strongly though not heavily formed, and 
 altogether having a frame capable of enduring a 
 vast amount of fatigue. His face was eminently 
 handsome, even at the time of our narrative, when 
 he was considerably more than sixty years of age. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 In fact, when he was younger it would have been 
 difficult to have found an individual possessing a 
 more expressive countenance. Nor was the clas- 
 sical shape of his features the sole recommendation 
 of his tace — ^it beamed with intelligence and can- 
 dour. Perhaps the most singular characteristic in 
 his countenance was the extraordinary combination 
 it displayed of mildness and determination. Nor 
 was the expression an untruthiul one ; for while 
 gentle to all, and anxious to avoid giving the 
 slightest offence to any, yet no danger was suffi- 
 cient.y terrible to make him quit a labour he had 
 once considered it a duty to his Maker to under- 
 take. 
 
 Bernardino Ochino was bom in the year 1487, 
 at Sienna, in Tuscany, of obscure parents, and 
 when young had been educated for the law; but 
 being of a pious turn of mind, he determined to 
 relinquish the legal profession and enter the 
 Church. It is not known at what ecclesiastical 
 seminary he prosecuted his studies, but after his 
 ordination he appears to have joined the Franciscan 
 Observantines, who were considered the strictest 
 of all the orders of the regular clergy. In this 
 order he continued for many years, gaining great 
 popularity as a preacher. But rigid as the rules of 
 the Observantines were, they'were not sufficiently so 
 for Bernardino, and he quitted them to enter as a 
 simple friar the order of the Capuchins. Shortly 
 after he had joined this new brotherhood, and long 
 before he had fully adopted the Reformed prin- 
 ciples, he began to turn his attention to the abuses 
 which then existed in the Church, and he attacked 
 with great severity the luxury and effeminacy of 
 dre priesthood. Had he commenced this attack 
 some thirty years before, it is more than probable 
 he would have been quickly silenced ; but so 
 weakened had the Church of Rome become by its 
 own corruptions, that its heads readily perceived 
 that if some refonnation did not take place in the 
 habits and manners of the clergy, it would be im- 
 possible to check the advance of the Reformed 
 doctrines; and Bernardino, instead of being silenced 
 and discouraged, was not only protected by the 
 College of Cardinals, but though still a simple 
 friar was raised to the dignity of Confessor to the 
 Pope himself. No monk perhaps ever had greater 
 power in his hands, or exercised it with more 
 modesty than Ochino. Riches and honour both 
 appeared utterly indifferent to him, and he con- 
 tinued to advance in the goodwill of every one. 
 
 By his own order, especially, Bernardino was 
 greatly admired and beloved. Long after he had 
 (in their estimation) degraded them by adopting 
 'heretical opinions, the annalist of their order speak- 
 ing of him says, " In such estimation was he held, 
 that he was esteemed incomparably the best 
 preacher in Italy, and his powers of oratory and 
 graceful action all powerfully enlisted the sympathy 
 of his audience, and this the more so as the admir- 
 able tenour of his private life corresponded so per- 
 fectly with his doctrines." Although a favoured 
 guest in the palaces of princes and nobles, he never 
 
 rode on horseback or in a carriage, but performed 
 all his journeys on foot. Nor did he relinquish this 
 habit even when far advanced in years. In the 
 pulpit, he was admired by all ; in fact, in such 
 estimation were his sermons held that, when he 
 preached in the immense Cathedrals of Ferrara 
 and Modena, even standing-room could not be 
 found for all those who wished to hear him. The 
 Emperor Charles V., who when in Italy was a con- 
 stant attendant at his sermons, said of him, " How 
 great is the power of that man ! he would make 
 the very stones weep, if they could hear him." 
 Sadolet and Bembo, who were far better judges of 
 oratory than his Majesty, admitted Ochino to be 
 the most eloquent preacher of his day. In the 
 year 1538, Ochino was chosen General of the Order 
 of the Capuchins, and, as a proof of the extra- 
 ordinary respect he was held in, he was again, in 
 another chapter, held at Whitsuntide, 1541, and in 
 direct opposition to his own wishes, re-elected 
 General of the Order, a mark of respect which had 
 never yet been shown to one of its brotherhood. 
 
 So great was the fame which Bernardino Ochino 
 had acquired as a preacher, that he was specially 
 sent on a mission to those centres of Italian heresy, 
 Ferrara and Modena, to counteract the march of 
 Protestantism, which had already gained an im- 
 mense number of converts. Although Ochino 
 entered into his work with great energy and zeal, 
 the natural honesty of his disposition would not 
 allow him to shut his eyes to the abuses existing 
 among the clergy of those two cities ; and, while 
 preaching eloquently the doctrines of the Church 
 of Rome, he took occasion at the same time to 
 lash most severely the corruptions which had been 
 introduced among its clergy. But Ochino, in his 
 attacks upon Protestantism, being actuated rather 
 by an erroneous conception of the truth than any 
 personal animosity to the Protestant professors, 
 attempted by argument to convince them of their 
 errors. In this, however, he signally failed. He 
 entered into discussions and arguments with Peter 
 Martyr, of Vermigli, and in^o correspondence with 
 Calvin, on what he considered their erroneous doc- 
 trines ; and tradition even says, that on more than 
 one occasion he met the great leader of the Pro- 
 testant faith in Italy, in the apartments of the 
 Duchess Rende, where the arguments were carried 
 on with great animation but perfect courtesy on 
 both sides. 
 
 The results of these discussions were such as 
 greatly to diminish the faith of Ochino in the 
 doctrines of the Church of Rome. And being 
 convinced of his errors in many points, he acknow- 
 ledged them both in private and in the pulpit, 
 to the great dissatisfaction of the Archbishop and 
 clergy, who strongly remonstrated with him on his 
 conduct. Ochino, however, was not a man, when 
 once convinced, to allow any power to bias him, 
 and he continued his preaching, which day by 
 day began to assume more of a Protestant ten- 
 dency, till, to the great dismay of the Catholic 
 clergy, he openly declared himself a Reformer. 
 
12 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Now united with Peter Martyr, he occupied him- 
 self with establishing Protestant churches in 
 Lucca, and other towns of Italy — the hatred of 
 the Catholic priesthood increasing in proportion as 
 his success was the greater, till at- last, having un- 
 dergone great persecutions, Ocljino was banished 
 from Italy. Being invited to visit England, he 
 received a most hospitable reception from the Pro- 
 tector Somerset. After the accession of Mary to 
 the throne, and the commencement of persecutions 
 against the Protestants, he was obliged to quit 
 England. He then wandered through Belgium, up 
 the Rhine to Basle, where he remained for some 
 time, occupied with the affairs of the Church, and 
 preaching to the different congregations of Italian 
 emigrants who had been obliged to leave their 
 country, where persecutions were being carried on 
 with such terrible severity. 
 
 CHAPTER II. — ^THE JUDGE. 
 
 After Camille had left them, and the door had 
 been firmly closed, the Judge received his friend 
 with every demonstration of affection and respect. 
 Finding Ochino almost fainting from fatigue, his 
 first act was to set before him some refreshments, of 
 which the ex-monk, exhausted though he was, but 
 very sparingly partook ; for although he had some 
 years before quitted the Capuchin order, and re- 
 jected as worthless many of their habits and cus- 
 toms, he still practised their abstemious manner of 
 living. Setting apart the meat and wine which had 
 been placed before him, he contented himself with 
 some bread, fruit, and a glass of water. During 
 the simple repast, his host sat opposite to him, 
 silently watching him, and it was not till he had 
 concluded that any continuous conversation en- 
 sued between them. Ochino, having reverently 
 returned thanks to Heaven for the meal of which he 
 had partaken, his host said to him — . 
 
 " My dear friend, I hardly know whether to be 
 pleased or sorry to see you; for although the 
 gratification of meeting an old and dear brother 
 in the faith is great indeed, I cannot disguise from 
 myself the terrible danger you have incurred in 
 thus visiting Ferrara." 
 
 " For years past," said Ochino, " I have been so 
 used to persecution and danger that they have 
 lost most of their terrors for me. I have my 
 work to perform, and the danger must be more 
 terrible than any I have ever yet met which can 
 deter me. But first tell me in what state is our 
 holy cause at present in Ferrara. Do those who 
 have accepted the truth still hold manfully to it, or 
 do the persecutions with which they are pressed 
 drive them back to the errors of Rome ?" 
 
 " Alas ! my friend, here, as in every other part of 
 Italy, the hand of the persecutor is strong upon us. 
 Hundreds, under the pressure of punishment and 
 persecution, have succumbed. All right of public 
 meeting for the celebration of our religion has been 
 withdrawn, and even the act of meeting together 
 for prayer has been adjudged criminal." 
 
 " But, surely," said Ochino, " that must be con- 
 trary to the laws of Ferrara. One of the principal 
 boasts of your citizens was, that liberty of con- 
 science was permitted throughout the whole Duchy 
 of Ferrara. Has that law, then, been abrogated ?" 
 
 "The law remains in our statute books as fresh 
 as the day it was first made, and the Duke himself, 
 on his accession to power, swore to maintain it. 
 But while in the cases of the Jew, the Idolater, 
 or the Mahometan, the law still remains in its full 
 force, it is denied, under the most severe penalties, 
 to us Protestants." 
 
 " But how can you as a Judge, sworn to ad- 
 minister the laws without partiality, allow your 
 Protestant brethren to be persecuted contrary to 
 the spirit of the law you are called upon to ad- 
 minister ?" 
 
 "I am helpless in the case," said the Judge. 
 "A power — that of the Inquisition — has been 
 estabhshed in Ferrara, which overrules all laws but 
 its own ; a power which claims to carry with it its 
 own absolution, sanctifying, as a service acceptable 
 to God, acts which set all God's laws at defiance." 
 
 " But still you remain in power. Can you not, 
 therefore, insist upon the law being carried out in its 
 integrity? or do your brother Judges oppose you?" 
 
 " My brother Judges, though the majority o^ 
 them are Romanists, to do them justice, havq 
 endeavoured to maintain the law granting liberty 
 of conscience to the inhabitants of Ferrara. Nay 
 more, they made desperate efforts to maintain it in 
 spite of the Inquisition itself. At last a case arose 
 which gave a fair opportunity for a trial of strength 
 between the civil and the ecclesiastical law as 
 administered by the Inquisitors, and the result of 
 the struggle was the triumph of the persecutor. A 
 certain Giorgio Siculo, of whose efforts in the cause 
 of truth you may have heard, was cited to appear 
 before the Inquisition on a charge of heresy, and 
 some of its officers were sent to arrest him ; but on 
 searching his house he could not be found, and his 
 wife and family either could not or would not give 
 any information as to where he was concealed, not- 
 withstanding their being threatened with punish- 
 ment should it be found out that they had not 
 spoken the truth. Still Siculo was nowhere to be 
 found. His wife was put to the torture, but 
 nothing could extort the secret from her, if she 
 knew it. The Inquisitors were determined not to 
 be baffled of their prey, and not only sent abroad 
 fresh spies to discover him, but offered heavy 
 rewards to those who would betray him. They 
 were on the point of succeeding, when late one 
 night Siculo called on me, and begged me to 
 use the power of the civil law to protect him, 
 asserting that he had in no way contravened the 
 laws of Ferrara. Nay more, that he had not even 
 infringed the ecclesiastical law, inasmuch as he 
 had never yet attacked the Church of Rome, 
 although he had preached against its abuses." 
 
 " I trust you granted his request," said Ochino. 
 
 " I did. I concealed him in my own house till 
 I had an opportunity of meeting in consultation 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 13 
 
 wnth the other Judges. They all agreed with me 
 that Siculo's was a proper case to try whether the 
 ecclesiastical laws administered by the Inquisition 
 were superior to the civil laws of Ferrara. When 
 I told them that Siculo was concealed in my house, 
 my brother Judges advised that he should be placed 
 for safety in one of the cells used for the detention of 
 prisoners before their trial in the Palace of Justice. 
 This was agreed to on the day before Siculo's case 
 was to be publicly argued in court, and he surren- 
 dered himself into the hands of the officers of the 
 civil justice, aiid notice was sent to the Inquisitors 
 informing them of the fact. When they received 
 the intelligence, they immediately demanded that 
 
 the prisoner should be delivered up to them, and 
 incarcerated in the dungeons of the Inquisition, 
 which possibly you may be aware has been esta- 
 blished in the monastery of the Corpus Domini. 
 This, of course, was objected to by the Judges, and 
 the inquiry into Siculo's case was ordered to take 
 place early the following morning, so as to let it 
 be conducted with as little popular agitation as 
 possible. The rumour, however, had spread abroad 
 among the Protestant population that the inquiry 
 was to take place, and long before daybreak many 
 people began to collect before the Palace of Jus- 
 tice, ready to enter when the door should be 
 opened. As day dawned, and objects became 
 
 clearer, some of them thought they distinctly per 
 ceived something hanging to the iron bars of one 
 of the upper windows of the palace ; and as the 
 light became stronger, the object began to assume 
 the shape of a human being. Broad daylight came, 
 and, to the horror of every one, the figure proved 
 to be the dead body of Giorgio Siculo, who had 
 been in the night hanged at the bars of the palace 
 window." 
 
 " But by whose order ? " said Ochino, utterly 
 aghast. 
 
 " That the order came from the Inquisition there 
 can be no doubt," replied the Judge, " but beyond 
 that all is veiled in mystery. My brother Judges, 
 
 Catholic as they are, were indignant at the act, 
 and a rigid inquiry was instituted ; but not a word 
 could be heard, nor a fact learnt, which could 
 throw the faintest hght on the matter." 
 
 " But you surely do not mean to say that your 
 investigations were attended with no result ? " 
 
 " My friend, if you knew the state in which 
 we now live in Ferrara, you would be little sur- 
 prised." 
 
 "How is your public worship conducted ?" in- 
 quired Ochino. 
 
 " Public worship, my friend," said the Judge, 
 " has long since been abolished. As I told you 
 before, the ecclesiastical courts have declared it 
 
H 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 penal. Nor can we worship together privately, for so 
 completely is Ferrara deluged by spies, that if three 
 met together for private worship, the probability 
 is that one of them would be a traitor. And 
 how can it be otherwise, when they are taught that 
 it is acceptable to Heaven to play the traitor on 
 those nearest and dearest to them ? " 
 
 " But the Duchess Rende," said Ochino, " surely 
 she has not withdrawn her protection from the 
 suffering Protestants in the city?" 
 
 " No, her willingness to shelter them is as great 
 as ever; but, alas! her ability has been terribly 
 curtailed. In consequence of what his Highness 
 has been pleased to call her heretical opinions, he 
 has separated from her, and assigned to her the 
 palace at San Francesco, where she now holds her 
 court ; but even there a system of the most com- 
 plete espionage is kept up. Although she is al- 
 lowed to have her daughters Lucretia and Elionora 
 with her, it is solely under the condition that the 
 Jesuit Father Pelletario has the superintendence 
 of their education. With the exception of my own 
 daughter, Teresa, who since the death of my wife 
 has acted as lady-in-waiting on the Duchess, and a 
 few other officials attached to her person, all around 
 her are bigoted Catholics." 
 
 A silence of a few moments now occurred, which 
 was broken by Bernardino Ochino saying — ■ 
 
 " You greatly grieve me by what you tell me 
 respecting the Duchess, as my mission to Ferrara 
 was almost purposely to see her." 
 
 " That she will receive you with a cordial 
 welcome is certain," said the Judge ; " but whether 
 you will be safe, even under her roof, is very doubt- 
 ful, so great is the anger of Rome against you. Did 
 you intend stopping long in Ferrara ? " 
 
 " Only a few days. An attempt has been made 
 to form an Italian Church in Zurich for those of 
 our countrymen who have fled from Italy for con- 
 science sake, and I am intrusted with the charge of 
 organising it. One portion of my mission was to 
 spread abroad among the faithful the knowledge of 
 the existence of this Church, to which they might 
 fly for refuge when driven from their own country ; 
 and the second was to ask the pecuniary assistance 
 and patronage of the Duchess. The first part I 
 have to a considerable extent accomplished. By 
 adopting my present dress I have been enabled to 
 visit the churches at Aosta, Como, Lucca, and other 
 towns, and, thank God ! hitherto I have succeeded, 
 although my labours have not been unattended 
 with danger. But tell me, do you think the Duchess 
 will be able to assist me ? " 
 
 " Certainly she does not want the will ; as for 
 the means it is different. So. continuous are the 
 demands on her charity in the city, that I am 
 afraid she will be able to afford you but little help. 
 However, you had better see her to-morrow, and 
 ask her for an asylum. It will be better for you to 
 seek protection in her palace, for I tell you can- 
 didly, you will not be in safety here. With the 
 exception of my friend Camille and my daughter 
 Teresa, there is hardly a soul with whom I am inti- 
 
 mate on whom I could rely ; and be assured that 
 even powerful as the protection of the Duchess 
 may be, it will not be more than sufficient to shield 
 you from the attacks of the Inquisitors as soon as 
 they know you are in the city." 
 
 "How should they know I am here?" said 
 Ochino. " I have told no one my name, and I 
 entered the city at dark, by the gate of San Giorgio, 
 purposely avoiding the Palace, and keeping my cowl 
 well over my features along the whole road. Beyond 
 an ignorant old man whom I found in the marshes, 
 and your friend Camille, I have spoken to no one." 
 
 " Still you are not in safety ; for although I can 
 fully depend upon Camille, who knows but the old 
 man was a spy sent to dog your footsteps, or that 
 ,^he has not already given notice of your arrival? 
 A law has been established, ordering, under the 
 penalty of a heavy fine and a severe flogging, that 
 notice shall be given to the police of any stranger 
 entering the city, no matter in how humble circum- 
 stances ; and of this you may be certain, that your 
 arrival is already known. What answer did you 
 make to the porter at the gate of San Giorgio ?" 
 
 " I did not speak to him," said Ochino. " The 
 old man my companion imagined that as I was in 
 the dress of a Capuchin Friar, I intended lodging 
 at the convent ; and I did not undeceive him." 
 
 " And to-morrow the convent will be visited, and 
 as the superior will certainly not be able to give a 
 satisfactory answer to the inquiries, spies will be set 
 upon your track. There is but one means by which 
 you can escape, and that is by obtaining the pro- 
 tection of the Duchess Ren^e. Although, as I said 
 before, her power is greatly diminished, still her 
 spirit and courage are unabated ; and if she offers 
 you an asylum in her palace you will be safe, unless 
 you fall a victim to some hidden plot. True, since 
 the accession of 'his Majesty Henry II. to the 
 throne of France, the fear of offending a French 
 Princess bulks less in the eyes of Rome than it 
 used to do. Still the experiment would be a 
 dangerous one, as her Highness would be little 
 inclined to allow an insult of the kind to be 
 offered her with impunity." 
 
 " You stated that Pelletario, the Jesuit, is now 
 confessor to the daughters of the Duchess. If I 
 were to reside in the palace he would be sure to 
 recognise me, for we were formerly intimate." 
 
 "Of Pelletario you have less to fear than of 
 any of the others. He is a learned man and 
 an elegant scholar, and I do not think that, un- 
 less stimulated by a very strong motive, he would 
 take any overt act against so distinguished a 
 man as yourself. No, all things considered, you 
 cannot do better than appeal to the Duchess 
 for protection. To-morrow morning, early, I will 
 send to my daughter Teresa, and tell her to in- 
 form the Duchess that you have arrived, and that 
 you request an interview with her. At the same 
 time, let me advise you to change your dress to that 
 of a civilian. To appear at court in the one you 
 now wear might expose you to danger — for being no 
 longer a brother of the order, you have no right to 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 15 
 
 it. But you must be tired with your day's journey. 
 I will now show you to your bed-room, where 
 you may remain in perfect safety at any rate till 
 to-morrow, as, from motives of prudence, I allow 
 no servants to sleep in my apartments, and there- 
 fore, beyond Camille, no one will know that you 
 are here." 
 
 Ocbino and his host now rose to separate for the 
 night, but beiojc doing so the foT^cr ■^sid — 
 
 " But tell me who is tnis young man who con- 
 ducted me into your presence ? From what he told 
 me he seemed to be an intimate friend of yours." 
 
 " His father is a merchant in Geneva, and an inti- 
 mate friend of the illustrious John Calvin. When 
 younger, Camille entered the French army, but 
 quitted it to study law, and became a pupil at the 
 university. He was introduced to me by one of 
 the professors, and has since been a constant visitor 
 here. I almost look upon him as a pupil, for 
 although I relinquished my position as professor at 
 the university when I was appointed senior Judge 
 twelve months ago, I still feel sufficient interest in 
 
 him to continue the superintendence of his studies. 
 Next year he is to return to Geneva, where he in- 
 tends to commence practising. I will introduce you 
 to him, and I am sure you will like him. You 
 will doubtless be requested by the Duchess to 
 preach in a small chapel she has fitted up in the 
 palace, the only place in Ferrara where a few can 
 gather together to hear the word. It will be indeed 
 a treat to us all, for it is now some months since we 
 have been able to join together in worship ; for 
 although her Highness, when we have a minister 
 bold enough to visit us, would willingly receive 
 any one thirsting after the truth, the experiment 
 is too dangerous to allow it to be often repeated. 
 But I will detain you no longer, my friend. Sleep 
 securely to-night; you shall not be disturbed. 
 When breakfast has been prepared, I shall dismiss 
 my servant, and you may then leave your room in 
 safety. Afterwards I will conduct you to the palace." 
 The Judge then showed Ochino his room, and 
 the two friends -separated for the night. 
 
i6 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER III. — THE DUCHESS. 
 
 LTHOUGH 
 the Duchess 
 Rende no 
 longer resid- 
 ed with the 
 Duke in the 
 Este Palace, 
 it can hardly 
 be said that 
 a direct se- 
 paration had 
 taken place 
 b e t w e en 
 them. He- 
 continued to 
 treat her with 
 marked re- 
 spect and at- 
 tention, and 
 supported 
 her in all 
 
 matters ex- 
 cept those 
 
 connected with religion; and her authority seems 
 to have been as much respected in Ferrara during 
 the absence of her husband as that of the Duke 
 himself. 
 
 For many years Ren^e appears to have wavered 
 between Protestantism and Romanism, greatly 
 favouring the former, while at the same time openly 
 professing herself a member of the Romish creed. 
 Although we find her sheltering Calvin, Ochino, 
 Pietro Martiie Vermigli, Clement Marot, and many 
 other Protestant celebrities, and accepting A«ith 
 pleasure the dedication of Bruccioli's translation of 
 the Bible into Italian, we find her, outwardly at least, 
 joining in several Catholic ceremonies without 
 hesitation. Ev6n as late as the year 1543, Muratori 
 tells us that the Duchess, attended by seventy-two 
 ladies, dressed in black silk ornamented with gold 
 embroidery, all on horseback, followed by many 
 carriages filled with other ladies, and by the Duke 
 himself with gentlemen on horseback, rode out to 
 the gate of San Giorgio to meet the sovereign 
 Pontiff" Paul III., when he visited Ferrara. They 
 then accompanied him in his procession to the 
 Cathedral, where he celebrated the Pontifical Mass, 
 and presented the Duke with a golden rose, and a 
 sword and hat, which he blessed. The Duke tes- 
 tified the greatest joy at the honour the Pope had 
 done him, and kissed the feet of his Holiness 
 with the utmost reverence. Rente's attendance at 
 this mass is emphatically recorded by more than 
 one of the Roman Catholic historians of Ferrara, 
 as proving that at that time her Highness was still 
 a laithful child of the Church of Rome. Muratori 
 also tells us that the Pope, when he quitted the 
 city, presented the Duchess with a costly diamond, 
 and a jewel composed of diamonds in the form of 
 a flower, in addition to many gifts to her children. 
 
 Rente's attendance at mass on the occasion of the 
 visit of Pope Paul lU., was her last, it appears, 
 for many years ; in fact from that time her opinions 
 seem to have taken a decided change in favour 
 of Protestantism, till at length she openly renounced 
 the Roman Catholic faith. Of the proximate cause 
 of the change it would be difiicult to form any 
 correct conclusion, though it is more than probable 
 it arose from disgust at the duplicity shown by 
 the Pontiff" on his visit to Ferrara, and her abhor- 
 rence of the cruelties of the Inquisition which were 
 afterwards practised by his authority, and which 
 tribunal he had, when visiting Ferrara and express- 
 ing all outward love and affection for its inhabit- 
 ants, brought with him in his train, and established 
 in the city. Two years later his Holiness addressed 
 a brief to the authorities of Ferrara, requiring them 
 to institute a strict investigation into the conduct 
 of every pei'son, of whatever rank or order, sus- 
 pected of entertaining erroneous religious opinions, 
 and after having taken depositions to apply the 
 torture, and when the trial was completed to 
 transmit the whole process to Rome for judgment 
 
 It was on the publication of this order of the 
 Pope that Rende appears first to have openly op- 
 posed the Church of Rome, which she did by 
 taking under her protection the Protestants of 
 Ferrara, and that with so much vigour, that for 
 five years the order of the Pope remained little 
 better than a dead letter. But while the Duchess 
 and. her advisers, true to the policy of the Pro- 
 testant Reformers, boldly denounced the errors 
 of their antagonists, and sought by open argument 
 to support their cause, the Inquisition adopted the 
 usual crafty policy it was in the habit of showing 
 when its opponents were strong. The Inquisitors 
 ^established agents in all parts of the city, who set 
 secretly to work, endeavouring by every means in 
 their power to undermine the new principles which 
 had taken root throughout the whole of Ferrara. 
 
 So vigorous was the onslaught made by the In- 
 quisition, that resolute and courageous as the 
 Duchess Rende had become in the Protestant 
 cause, she seemed almost paralyzed at the power 
 brought against her ; and for some short time ap- 
 pears considerably to have relaxed her wonted 
 energy. In fact, so little opposition did she appear 
 to offer, that those who had hitherto looked upon 
 her as their champion, now seemed to lose heart. 
 The news of her inaction at last reached the ears of 
 Calvin, who was then resident in Geneva, and for 
 whom she always appeared to entertain a great 
 respect. In a letter written to her, and which is still 
 in existence, he begs of her again to exert herself in 
 the cause of the unfortunate, and to protect those suf- 
 fering for religion's sake, urging her particularly not 
 to listen to the arguments of the priests attached to 
 her court, who would lead her from the truth. 
 
 She appears to have received fresh impulse 
 from Calvin's letter, and her protection of the Pro- 
 testants not only became more open, but she now 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA, 
 
 '7 
 
 boldly announced herself one of their number, and 
 succeeded to a certain extent in stopping the 
 violence of the persecution. At length a circum- 
 stance occurred— the death of Francis I. of France 
 —which deprived her of a good and powerful ally. 
 From Henry II., himself a bigot, she could expect 
 no support, and the Inquisitors knowing this but 
 too well, carried on their persecutions with greater 
 vigour, and even implored the Duke to incarcerate 
 his wife, unless she returned to the Catholic faith. 
 
 The Duke, though willing to oblige the In- 
 quisitors, had too much respect for his wife 
 to obey their request, and he hesitated to pro- 
 ceed with an)fthing like severity against the 
 mother of his children, and a daughter of 
 France. The Inquisition still pressed upon him 
 the necessity of insisting on his wife again adopting 
 the Catholic faith, and the Duke promised he 
 would take the subject into his serious considera- 
 tion, although he would not do so until he had 
 tried every conciliatory means of bringing her 
 round to what he considered a better frame of 
 mind. With this intent he commissioned his con- 
 fessor, the Jesuit Pelletario, to argue with her in 
 order to convince her of the error of her ways, and 
 endeavour by every means in his power to induce 
 her to return to the Church of Rome. The Duke's 
 policy, however, was useless, for Ren^e would not 
 listen to the arguments of the Jesuit, and even re- 
 fused to receive him into her presence, and this 
 was done in so open and abrupt a manner as to 
 rouse the anger of the Duke, who determined, 
 on his part, to show some of that energy which 
 his wife possessed in so marked a degree. He 
 now told her, with an amount of determination 
 which must have surprised her, that for the future 
 he should no longer consider her as his wife, but 
 that to prevent open scandal he would assign to 
 her the Palace of San Francesco. Here she could 
 maintain a court of her own, where her authority 
 would be as strictly obeyed as if she were residing 
 with him in the Este Palace ; but her two daughters 
 were no longer to be with her. 
 
 This was indeed a cruel blow to Rent^e, who 
 was most tenderly attached to her children; and 
 she earnestly implored her husband to alter his 
 decision. Angiy as the Duke was at what he con- 
 sidered the obstinacy of his wife, he had still too 
 much respect for her to be indifferent to her 
 entreaties ; while, on the other hand, he was 
 strongly urged by the Inquisitors to maintain the 
 resolution he had come to. At last a compromise 
 was arrived at. Her two daughters were allowed 
 to remain with her, under the sole condition that 
 she should not tamper with their religion, and that 
 they should be under the spiritual care of the 
 Jesuit Pelletario. All other members of her court, 
 Rende was to choose for herself, and they were to 
 be allowed, while under her roof, to practise the 
 Reformed religion. The Duchess had no alterna- 
 tive but to accept these conditions. She removed 
 to the palace of San Francesco, choosing her officials 
 as much as possible from Protestant families, though 
 
 even among these there was too much reason to 
 believe many were but spies in disguise. 
 
 As soon as Rende heard of the arrival of Ber- 
 nardino Ochino in Ferrara, she immediately offered 
 him shelter and protection, at the same time ad- 
 vising him to assume some other name, for power- 
 ful as her protection still was within the walls 
 of San Francesco, it would hardly be sufficient to 
 defend him from the fury of the Inquisitors did 
 they discover he had had the audacity again to 
 make his appearance in the city. 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day, Ochino, in 
 the quiet dress of a citizen of Ferrara, accompanied 
 by the Judge Rosetti, proceeded to a secluded 
 door of the palace which opened into a back 
 street, and which had already been used for the 
 purpose of sheltering the fugitive and the oppressed. 
 On their arrival, the door was opened from the 
 interior by an aged servant of foreign aspect, who 
 conducted Ochino and the Judge up a narrow 
 staircase which led into a corridor, from whence a 
 door opened into a private room. Here they were 
 ushered into the presence of the Duchess, who was 
 attended by Teresa and another lady in waiting. 
 
 On seeing Ochino enter, the Duchess rose from her 
 chair to receive him, when he bent on his knee to 
 kiss her hand. She raised him, and insisted on his 
 taking a seat by her side. Alter a few conventional 
 sentences of welcome, the Duchess said to him — 
 
 "Have I correctly understood Teresa Rosetti 
 that the object of your visit to Ferrara is to obtain 
 help for the establishment of a church and refuge 
 in Zurich, where those persecuted in Italy for the 
 truth's sake may fly for shelter and protection ?" 
 
 " It is, noble lady," said Ochino ; " and I trust 
 with your powerful assistance I shall be able to 
 accomplish it." 
 
 " Alas ! my friend," said Ren^e, " my power, as ■ 
 Rosetti will tell you, is but limited indeed." Then 
 noticing an expression of doubt on Ochino's coun- 
 tenance, Ren^e continued — " Nay, believe me, I 
 do not speak without experience : my power is 
 almost gone. If you doubt me, inquire what was 
 the fate of Fannio of Faeuza. In vain did I use 
 my authority to save him." 
 
 " And is it really true," said Ochino, " that the 
 worthy man has suffered for the faith ? When in 
 London, I heard that he had been arrested and put 
 upon his trial ; and although I knew how much he 
 had raised the anger of the court of Rome by his 
 preaching, I thanked God that he had so powerful 
 a protector as your Highness, and I felt assured that 
 in the end he would escape." 
 
 " Alas ! you far over-rated my powers,'' said 
 the Duchess. "And yet to save him I exerted 
 them to the utmost. He was tried by tjhe In- 
 quisition, and having openly avowed that he was 
 a Lutheran, was judged guilty, and his sentence 
 sent for confirmation to Rome. A month after- 
 wards he was burnt in the Piazza, and his ashes 
 thrown into the river. Although discouraged by 
 my failure, I still exerted myself to save others, 
 but all in vain. You may depend, however, upon 
 
iS 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 what little authority I have being used in your 
 favour. But were you well advised to undertake 
 this mission yourself? Had you written to me, I 
 should have been equally willing to aid you without 
 your incurring the terrible risk you do by visiting 
 this unhappy city." 
 
 " I well calculated," replied Ochino, " all the 
 chances that should be against me, although I 
 admit I was little prepared to hear how terribly 
 our cause in Ferrara has fallen. Still I fear nothing. 
 The same God who protected me in the dif- 
 lerent cities I have traversed on my road hither 
 will protect me here. But should He in his wisdom 
 allow me to fall into the hands of the persecutor, 
 I am convinced it will be for some good reason, 
 and I shall submit to my fate with resignation." 
 
 " It shall be from no fault of mine," said Rende, 
 " if you do not quit Ferrara with as much safety as 
 you entered it. At the same time, great prudence 
 and caution must be used. You are too well-known 
 here not to be recognised if you are seen abroad, 
 and therefore I would advise you not to leave the 
 palace. While within its walls, I trust I shall be able 
 to protect you, though even of this I am not certain. 
 Once seen outside, your doom will be sealed. How 
 long do you intend to remain among us?" 
 
 " The extent of my visit will not be beyond a 
 few days," said Ochino, " as I wish to proceed to 
 Venice, where I have some friends who will also 
 protect me, and where I expect to receive liberal 
 contributions to my work." 
 
 " Are you aware," said Ren^e, " that the Inquisi- 
 tion is also established in Venice, and that you will 
 hardly be safer there than in Ferrara ? " 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness," said Ochino ; 
 " although the Inquisition is certainly established in 
 Venice, the council would only allow it under the 
 condition that a judge of the civil law should sit on 
 all cases, and have equal power with the inquisitor ; 
 and that unless both concur in a judgment, it 
 should not be carried out. In Ferrara, on the other 
 hand, as we have too good reason to know, the 
 civil law is powerless against the Inquisition. In 
 Venice, believe me, there is far less danger than here." 
 
 "Well, that being the case, thought must be 
 taken in what manner you can reach Venice." 
 
 " Possibly the safest and easiest plan will be for 
 me to descend the river till I reach Commacchio, 
 where there will be no difficulty in finding a vessel 
 to carry me to Venice. But before leaving Ferrara," 
 continued Ochino, " I trust 1 shall have an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing and exhorting those of our faith 
 to have courage under persecution and continue in 
 the right way." 
 
 " It would be cruel indeed on my part," said 
 Rende, " to attempt to deprive them of so great a 
 consolation, and every assistance I can afford, both 
 to them and to you, I will willingly give. This 
 evening after nightfall (for it would be dangerous to 
 attempt it earlier) my private chapel shall be pre- 
 pared, and all thoie of our religion whom I can 
 trtist, shall be invited to attend. Our congrega- 
 tion," the Duchess continued, smiling sadly, " will 
 
 appear small indeed compared with that you ad- 
 dressed the last time you preached in Ferrara, 
 when, you remember, our immense cathedral was 
 far too small to hold those who rushed to hear 
 you. But be assured of this, a more devout 
 assembly, or one more earnestly seeking conso- 
 lation and encouragement, no preacher ever had, 
 than those who will meet you here to-night. Still, 
 they must be selected with care and caution, for 
 unhappily there are many of the children of Judas 
 among us, who would readily betray their Master." 
 The conversation then turned on the prospects 
 of the Protestant cause in Switzerland, and espe- 
 cially in Zurich. Afterwards Ochino narrated to the 
 Duchess the different adventures he had passed 
 through since he had escaped from Italy, dwelling 
 particularly on his sojourn in England, and the 
 friendly reception he had received from the Pro- 
 tector.* The intelligent, though somewhat plain, 
 features of the Duchess, kindled up with indignation 
 when, with all his graphic powers, Ochino described 
 the persecutions in Smithfield, and the cruelties 
 practised on the unfortunate reformers after the 
 accession of Mary to the throne. 
 
 " And is the monarch of that country a woman?" 
 asked Rende. " I blush for our sex. O that I 
 had been in her place ! " She continued to pace 
 the room backwards and forwards for some time, 
 none caring to interrupt her in her exhibition of 
 indignation, when suddenly she turned round to 
 Ochino — "But how long has this monster been 
 upon the throne ? I thought the monarch of Eng- 
 land was a young king." Then, turning sharply on 
 Teresa, she said, " Was it not the catechism written 
 especially for his instruction that I ordered to be 
 translated into Italian, and printed in Venice ?t 
 How is it possible, with such a religion as that 
 j teaches, that the English people can have again re- 
 ' lapsed into Romanism?" 
 
 ' " But, your Highness," said Ochino, " his Ma- 
 jesty King Edward VI. died when quite a youth, 
 , two years since ; and the Princess Mary, who had 
 I been educated in the Catholic faith, instigated by 
 1 her husband, Philip of Spain, commenced a system 
 of terror and persecution, to drive what they call 
 heresy out of the land." 
 
 " Do you think they will succeed?" asked Rende. 
 
 " There is no chance of it, your Highness," 
 
 replied Ochino. "The Queen and her husband 
 
 but little know the temper of the people over 
 
 whom they rule. The great mass of their subjects 
 
 * shortly after his arrival in London, Ochino wrote a very curious 
 but clever work on the unjust pretensions of the Pope ot K.ome. Hcing 
 then but little acquainted with the English language, he wrote it first 
 in Latin, and then requested his friend, Master John Ponet, D.D., to 
 translate it for him. It is printed in black letter, and was published 
 in the year 1549. Its dedication runs thus : — 
 
 " To the Most Myghtie and Most Excellent Prince Edwarde the 
 Syxthe, by the Grace of God King of England, Fraunce, and Ireland, 
 and on earth Supreme head of the church of England and Ireland, 
 Bernadinus Ochinus Senensis wisheth all Felicitie." 
 
 i This catechism appears to have been translated into Italian by 
 Florio, with the title, " Catechismo, cive forma breve per amaestrare 
 i fanciulle ; la quale di tutta la ' Christiana disciplina contiene la 
 somma.' Tradotta di Latino per M. A. Florio." Small 8vo, but 
 without place, date, or printer's name. _ The existence of this, work 
 was unknown to the learned Dr. M'Crie, yet it was inserted in the 
 first Koman index in the list of books expressly prohibited, and must 
 therefore have been well known. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 are sincere Protestants, and although out of respect 
 for the laws, they may submit for a time to the 
 persecutions, depend upon it every fresh funeral 
 pile which is lighted in Smithfield but hurries on 
 the day of retribution." 
 
 " Is the Queen then not beloved by her sub- 
 jects ?" inquired Rende. 
 
 " As little as it is possible for a monarch to be. 
 Great as may be the love of the Enghsh in general 
 for their monarchs, all seem to look with satis- 
 faction rather than pity on the infirm state of her 
 health." 
 
 " Is her malady considered fatal ? " asked Rende. 
 
 "So it is stated, your Highness; but, of course, 
 I am no authority on the subj :ct." 
 
 " And who will be her successor ?" 
 
 " The Princess Elizabeth, it is believed." 
 
 "And what religion does she profess ?" inquired 
 Rende. " Is she still in the errors of Romanism, 
 or has she adopted the reformed faith?" 
 
 "A warmer supporter of the Protestant faith 
 does not exist in Europe," replied Ochino. " The 
 eyes of all Protestants are turned towards her. 
 Probably it is the hope that she will soon succeed to 
 the throne, and that only, which keeps the English 
 people from rising against the present Queen." 
 
 The conversation continued some time longer on 
 the same subject, and Rende then gave orders to 
 an attendant that an apartment should be provided 
 in the palace where her visitor should not be 
 subjected to interruption. The audience with the 
 Duchess then terminated, upon the understand- 
 ing that at nightfall they should re-assemble, with 
 as many Protestant friends as possible. 
 
 After the Duchess had left them, Rosetti intro- 
 duced his daughter to Ochino. There was no 
 little pride in her father's countenance as he did so, 
 for a more lovely young girl than Teresa it would 
 have been difficult to find in Ferrara. She was 
 about seventeen years of age, slim and graceful, 
 and of that peculiarly fair complexion which is 
 so often found among girls who have been brought 
 up in the neighbourhood of marshy lands, but 
 without the sickly appearance which generally cha- 
 racterizes them. Her features were delicate — an 
 exquisitely formed nose, a small mouth, large dark 
 confiding eyes, black and finely traced eyebrows, 
 an open clear forehead, and beautiful golden hair, 
 which hung down her back and over her shoulders. 
 In the expression of her countenance there was 
 something extremely ingenuous and amiable, con- 
 veying an idea of truthfulness so strongly marked, 
 that it appeared impossible, under any circum- 
 stances, to doubt a word she uttered. 
 
 Ochino was evidently struck with the beauty of 
 the young girl, and expressed much pleasure at 
 seeing her. He entered freely into conversation with 
 her, and told her that he had two daughters, who 
 with their mother were now in Basle, and that when 
 times were more settled he hoped he should have 
 the pleasure of introducing them to her. Then 
 turning, to Rosetti he said — 
 
 "If I remember rightly, you had another daughter: 
 
 is she also living under the protection of the 
 Duchess ? " 
 
 " Alas ! my friend, I have now but one child. 
 My other daughter died with her mother during 
 the last visitation of the plague in Ferrara. Teresa 
 is the only relative left me in the world." 
 
 " It is fortunate," said Ochino, " to have found 
 for her so powerful a protectress as the Duchess." 
 
 " I am happy to say her Highness is not the 
 only protectress she has," replied the Judge. " Pro- 
 testant as my daughter is, the two young Prin- 
 cesses have conceived for her a great affeciion, 
 and she is allowed to associate with them freely 
 under the express stipulation that no conversation 
 on religious matters passes between them." 
 
 " Are you not afraid," asked Ochino, " that 
 acting as they are under the authority of the Jesuit 
 Pelletario, they may endeavour to persuade her to 
 quit the true faith ? " 
 
 " In the first place," said the Judge, taking his 
 daughter's hand, " I am sure my dear child is too 
 strongly imbued with the principles of her faith, to 
 dread anything either from the teachings of the 
 Jesuit Pelletario, or the influence of her young 
 friends, much as she is attached to them. But 
 there is still another safeguard for her. When the 
 Duchess took up her residence here in the Palace 
 of San Francesco, it was expressly stipulated that 
 if her Highness did not attempt to interfere with 
 the religion of her daughters, there should be no 
 interference with those of her court who professed 
 the Reformed doctrines, and I am bound to say, 
 at all events as regards my child, that no attempt 
 has hitherto been made to tamper with her faith." 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by a mes- 
 sage from the Duchess requesting Teresa's pre- 
 sence. Bidding her father and Ochino farewell till 
 they should meet again in the evening, she imme- 
 diately left the room. As soon as she had quitted 
 them Ochino said to his friend, — 
 
 " You must feel your house dreary indeed with- 
 out the presence of your amiable child." 
 
 " That I would willingly have her with me is 
 true," said her father, " but after all it is a great 
 consolation to me to know she is in a place of 
 safety. Were she residing with me I should be 
 under a double anxiety. First, from the continual 
 attacks which would be made on her religion, and 
 in the next place, from the admiration slie would 
 be likely to excite among the youths of Ferrara, 
 for I cannot shut my eyes to the fact, and without 
 a father's prejudice in her favour, that her personal 
 attractions are of no common order. Were she to 
 reside in my house under the care of a gouvernante, 
 it would certainly be a great satisfaction to have 
 her near me, but then again, her being in greater 
 security under the same roof with the Duchess, 
 relieves me from the anxiety I might otherwise 
 feel. As it is she has the power of visiting me, 
 accompanied by one of the elder female attendants 
 of the Duchess, whenever she pleases, and on my 
 part, I have free entrance to the Palace. But now, 
 changing the conversation, are there any particular 
 
^o 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 persons whom you wish invited to meet you this 
 evening ? If so, you have but to name them, and 
 I will take means to request their presence." 
 
 Ochino now mentioned the names of several he 
 wished to see. 
 
 " Alas ! my friend," said the Judge, " not one of 
 those you have mentioned are to be found in 
 Ferrara. More than one has already suffered 
 death for righteousness' sake, several are in the 
 dungeons of the Inquisition, and others have fled 
 for refuge to Switzerland. You will find no longer 
 among us those bright names which shed so great 
 a glory over Ferrara. Not one among them has 
 been allowed to remain. Even the twenty-four 
 ladies and courtiers professing the Reformed faith, 
 who arrived with the Duchess in Ferrara, have a^ 
 been banished, and those that now serve her are 
 permitted to do so solely because it is imagined 
 they are not possessed of sufficient intellectual 
 faculties to be of the slightest danger to the 
 religion of the State. Still, the faith is strong 
 among us, although it is scattered, and we dare 
 hardly whisper our religious belief to those who 
 are nearest and dearest to us. Between this and 
 nightfall, I will, assisted by Camille Gurdon, in- 
 vite as many of our faith as may be safely trusted 
 to meet us at the Palace, and when our prayers are 
 over they shall be severally introduced to you. 
 Although your visit to Ferrara may have been 
 a:ttended with great fatigue and danger, you will 
 have the satisfaction of knowing, when you quit us, 
 that you have done good service in our cause, by 
 renewing in the bosoms of many of us some hope 
 for the future. I will also endeavour to collect funds 
 for your work in Zurich, and I have every reason to 
 hope my appeal will be responJ"d to with liberality. 
 Many ardent adherents of our creed are still to be 
 found among the poor and ignorant, but among the 
 educated and wealthy the proportion is still greater. 
 Now excuse me, my friend, if I leave you. I have 
 no doubt her Highness will see you again before 
 evening. You had better arrange with her in what 
 way you should leave Ferrara, for although the 
 longer you stay with us the greater our satisfaction, 
 . the precautions which must be taken to insure your 
 escape will occupy some time, and the sooner we 
 commence preparations the more likely they are to 
 be carried out in safety." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. " WHERE TWO OR THREE ARE 
 
 GATHERED TOGETHER," ETC. 
 
 As predicted by Rende, the meeting in the evening 
 to hear the preaching of Ochino formed a singular 
 contrast to that which a few years before had taken 
 place in the cathedral. I'hen the body-guard of the 
 Duke were called out to maintain order among those 
 who rushed to hear the celebrated man ; now, the 
 few who wished to be present, quietly and stealthily 
 made their way in the darkness of night, in the 
 shadow of the projecting roofs of the houses to the 
 back entrance of the palace, carefully and timidly 
 glancing round to see if they were watched, or 
 followed, and frequently turning out of their way if 
 
 they met any one whom they, rightly or wrongly, 
 suspected. Singly, or at the most in groups of twos 
 or threes, they arrived at the wicket door of the 
 palace, which was speedily opened to them when 
 they knocked ; and they were received by Camille 
 and an aged female attendant of the Duchess, who 
 conducted them to the private chapel, where seats 
 were assigned them. As they took their places, 
 and offered up the customary short prayer, before 
 uncovering their faces they glanced stealthily round 
 to ascertain whom they knew, looking suspiciously 
 on the others lest there might be some traitor to 
 the cause. By degrees, however, they became 
 bolder, and smiles of congratulation, brotherly 
 love, and welcome, became perceptible on their 
 countenances, and low whisperings passed between 
 them. And then again, as others entered, the 
 eyes of those already assembled would turn on 
 them, eager to distinguish whether they were friends 
 or foes, and as they were recognised, a smile of 
 greeting passed between them, and so on with all 
 fresh comers, till at last the chapel was completely 
 filled. All suspicion then appeared to vanish, and 
 a look of tinfeigned satisfaction, kindness, and afifec^ 
 tion seemed to illumine the features of the whole 
 congregation. One thing was particularly notice- 
 able among the assembly. Although many women 
 were present, there were no children or young girls, 
 proving that parental love had been too powerful 
 to allow them to expose their offspring to the dan- 
 gers which might attend a meeting of the kind. 
 It was nearly nine o'clock before all had arrived ; 
 and the Duchess and ladies of her court then en- 
 tered and took their seats in front of the pulpit, 
 which was shortly afterwards occupied by Ochino. 
 
 The service strongly resembled that in use among . 
 the Congregationalists in England in the present 
 day. Some hymns of great simplicity and beauty 
 were sung, and different portions of Scripture, 
 both in the Old and New Testament, were read in 
 Italian from Bruccioli's translation.* A lengthened?; 
 prayer of great fervour and piety was offered up by*' 
 Ochino, and then, after another hymn had been 
 sung by the congregation, he rose to commence 
 his sermon. His text was Acts xvii. 23. 
 
 The first portion of his address consisted in 
 drawing a comparison between the difficulties and 
 dangers experienced by the Aposdes in promul- 
 gating the doctrines of Christianity among the 
 idolaters, and those experienced by the Reformers 
 of the Church of Rome in abolishing its idolatries 
 and abuses. He then went into a lengthened 
 description of the persecution the brethren were at 
 that time suffering in all parts of Europe. He 
 drew a vivid picture of what the faithful were 
 then enduring, extending from England in die 
 north to the extreme shores of the Mediterranean 
 in the south, from the eastern extremity of civilised 
 Europe to the western point of- Spain. He dwelt 
 with great force on the cruelties practised upon 
 
 * Bruccioli's was the first entire edition of the Holy Scriptures 
 translated into Italian. He dedicated it, by express permission, to 
 the Duchess Rcnec. It is said that as many as seventeen editions of 
 it were published be. ore its sale was prohibited by the Inquisition. ' 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 the unoffending Reformers in the latter country, 
 and showed how the Inquisition, which had there 
 taken even firmer root than in Italy, tyrannized 
 over the souls and bodies of men, dissolving 
 the most sacred ties among them — the love of 
 the child for its parent, and the husband for the 
 wife. The priests taught that the nearer the tie 
 of relationship, the greater and more pleasing 
 was the sacrifice to God of those who denounced 
 to the Holy Tribunal the Protestant tendencies of 
 their relations. He then passed over to France, 
 where he described the noble efforts of the Re- 
 formers and the persecutions which were brought to 
 bear on them. He informed his hearers that when 
 the temporal authorities seemed disposed to show 
 mercy, the priests had sent to Spain for Oriz the 
 Jesuit, a man to whom the sentiment of pity was 
 unknown, to assume the direction of the Inquisi- 
 tion in that country. Thanks, however, to the 
 spirit of justice in that noble nation, it was yet un- 
 decided whether he would be allowed to remain, as 
 the persecutions he had organized disgusted even 
 the most bigoted of the lay members of the Catholic 
 Church in France. He showed them how the 
 Catholic Princes of Germany were striving, though 
 ineffectually, to stamp out the Reformation ; how 
 in Flanders the Spanish Governors, stimulated by 
 the ofiicials of the Spanish Inquisition, had already 
 executed more than sixty thousand Protestants. 
 Even in England, that country which displayed so 
 glorious an example to the rest of Europe in setting 
 boldly at defiance the despotism of the Church of 
 Rome, a bigoted Catholic monarch sat on the 
 throne, persecuting with relentless fury all who 
 would not submit to the dominion of the Popes, and 
 banishing from the hospitable shores of the country 
 those sufferers for the truth's sake who had fled 
 to it for protection in the previous reign. 
 
 " But, my friends," continued Ochino, " let us 
 now turn to the brighter side of the picture. 
 Notwithstanding the machinations of the Inqui- 
 sition in France, and the imprisonments and 
 executions suffered by the Reformers, the cause 
 of truth appears to be daily gaining ground, 
 and the courage of the persecuted rises. In 
 Germany, with each successive persecution. Pro- 
 testantism seems to take, stronger root. In the 
 Netherlands the blood of martyrs so freely shed 
 has had but the effect of creating more converts. 
 In England, Heaven not only supports the per- 
 secuted, but the whole nation, indignant at the 
 cruelties practised, will but for a very short time 
 longer submit to them. The health of the pre- 
 sent monarch is failing fast, and the Princess, 
 her successor, is strongly attached to the Re- 
 formed doctrines. And although I cannot state 
 that the prospects of our Church in Spain and in 
 our own beloved country are at present very hope- 
 ful, depend upon it, the justice and power of the 
 Almighty are too strong to allow the persecutor to 
 continue his course unchecked. 
 
 " And now, my friends, I come to the most 
 painful part of my discourse. I have heard with 
 
 deep sorrow that many of our dear brethren have 
 again relapsed into the errors of Romanism and prac- 
 tise the idolatry of the Mass. Painful as their fall 
 is to us, we should not sorrow as those without 
 hope, but energetically try not only to shield and 
 support to the utmost in our power those still 
 among us, but endeavour to recall back again into 
 the fold those who have quitted us. Remember 
 that the Holy Scriptures prove to us, that those 
 who have been weak in their faith have occasionally 
 risen again into strength. They tell us that, al- 
 though St. Peter in fear denied his Master, his 
 courage rose again, and like a true soldier of the 
 Cross, he bore it to the death. At the same time, 
 this episode in St. Peter's life is not given us as an 
 example to follow, but one to avoid. It teaches us 
 to understand the infinite mercy of Christ in again 
 receiving into his love his weak-hearted disciple. 
 
 ' " But you may ask in what manner, while labour- 
 ing under persecution, or in daily dread of some 
 active oppression, and unguided by the ministers of 
 religion, are you to escape the snares which beset 
 you on every side. Here, my dear brethren, let 
 me point out to you the unappreciable advantage 
 possessed by you over those who are members of 
 the Church of Rome. Although the presence of a 
 minister of religion is advantageous, you have that, 
 in the absence of your minister, which may guide 
 your footsteps with unfailing security — the Holy 
 Scriptures, which are now circulated among you in 
 your own language, so that all may read and under- 
 stand. The whole College of Cardinals cannot more 
 clearly enlighten a believer in the Church of Rome, 
 than that Book is able to enlighten the poorest 
 among you. Let me beg of you, then, to study it 
 attentively, and if yOU earnestly pray to the Lord 
 to give you the gift of understanding, rely upon it 
 your prayer will not be made in vain. 
 
 " Is it not a great consolation taught you in that 
 Book, that you have the power, without the inter- 
 mediation of the priesthood, to apply directly to the 
 Almighty for protection and assistance ? Explain, 
 then, candidly your disease to the Great Physician, 
 show Him openly your wound that He may heal 
 you. Is it not the direct and special function of 
 Christ to destroy sin and wash out all our iniqui- 
 ties ? Never forget that God is all-powerful, and 
 that without his permission not a hair can fall 
 from your head. Do not allow yourselves to be 
 influenced by following the example of the multi- 
 tude, but only that of the saints. Let the word ot 
 the Lord be as a lamp before you, for if you do not 
 read and believe the word which was written for 
 your enlightenment, you will find many stumbling- 
 blocks in your path through the world. The Lord 
 knows that in addressing these exhortations to 
 you, I am actuated only by the interest I feel 
 in your spiritual welfare, and I trust you will 
 receive my words as I mean them. I pray God to 
 enlighten you, and strengthen you in Jesus Christ, 
 that you may triumph over Satan, the world, and the 
 flesh, and in the end obtain the crown which belongs 
 only to those who have conquered. Amen." 
 
22 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 When Ochino had conduded his sermon, the 
 breathless silence^ which had hitherto reigned in the 
 chapel was partially broken, and a murmur of admi- 
 ration arose. Another hymn was then sung, a short 
 parting prayer offered up, and the service terminated. 
 
 But instead of the congregation quitting the 
 chapel, they flocked round the pulpit, eager to ap- 
 proach nearer to the preacher when he left it, and 
 that with so much earnestness, that it was difficult to 
 \ keep them from inconveniencing the Duchess and 
 her suite. When Ochino descended the pulpit 
 steps, the Duchess advanced towards him, and 
 warmly thanked him for his . admirable discourse, 
 carrying with it, as it did, consolation and comfort 
 into the minds of those greatly needing them. The 
 commendations of the Duchess finished, the cgn- 
 gi-egation now threw off all subjection, and earnestly 
 thanked the preacherfor the encouragement and con- 
 solation he had given them, which they assured him 
 they would treasure up in their hearts to strengthen 
 thtm in the days of persecution. So earnest 
 were they in their manner of addressing him, that 
 Ochino, accustomed as he was to the compliments 
 and praises of those who heard him, was not proof 
 against it, and the tears rolled down his venerable 
 face as he thanked them for their kindness and 
 good feeling. Possibly his tears might have been 
 in some part caused by the idea which doubtless 
 crossed his mind, that in a short time those who 
 now pressed so eagerly around him, would be given 
 over into the power of the persecutor, in whose 
 hands no mercy would be shown them. 
 
 Among tliose who came forward to kiss the 
 hand of the preacher was the venerable mother of 
 the celebrated Olympia Morata, who had long since 
 been obliged to fly from Ferrara to avoid the perse- 
 cutions with which she was threatened, for neither 
 youth, talent, beauty, nor all combined, seemed 
 capable of exciting a spark of pity in the minds of 
 the Inquisitors. When the old lady, now in her 
 eightieth year, was introduced to Ochino, be re- 
 ceived her with great respect and affection. He 
 told her he had had the pleasure of seeing her 
 daughter and her husband as he came through 
 Heidelberg, and described the love in which they 
 were held by the inhabitants of that city, and how 
 much Olympia gloried in the fact, that in spite of 
 all the persecutions which had taken place in Fer- 
 rara, her venerable mother had kept true to the faith. 
 Then again were introduced to Ochino many of the 
 relatives of those who had been banished, or had 
 already suffered death for the truth's sake, to all of 
 whom he had some kind word to say. 
 
 So cheering was the influence of that one man 
 on the few members present of the Protestant flock 
 which yet remained in Ferrara, that all seemed to 
 forget the misery which surrounded them, and the 
 dangers with which they were threatened. Instead 
 of dispersing they formed themselves in knots, and 
 entering the corridor leading to the chapel, con- 
 versed together with great friendliness. The Duchess 
 Rende also greatly exerted herself to please her 
 guests, conversing with them with much affability. 
 
 Among the many to whom she spoke, there was 
 not one whom she addressed with greater con- 
 descension or kind feeling than Camille Gurdon. 
 She complimented him warmly on the exertions he 
 had shown in the cause of truth, and begged him 
 still to go on in the same way, and that he wou! ' 
 receive his reward for it in the next world, and not 
 improbably in this as well. 
 
 As she said this, Camille, involuntarily perhaps, 
 cast an anxious glance on Teresa who stood by the 
 side of the Duchess". The glance, however, was 
 unperceived by Rende, otherwise she might have 
 arrived at the conclusion, that the hope of reward 
 entertained by Camille Gurdon in this world was 
 not so far distant as she herself imagined. But if 
 his behaviour passed unnoticed by the Duchess, 
 not so by the young girl who stood by her side, 
 and a blush as deep as crimson spread over her 
 face, which seemed to have so painful an effect on 
 her that she dropped behind the Duchess. Gur- 
 don also, perceiving the effect his glance had 
 produced, blushed deeply and cast his eyes on the 
 ground. The Duchess noticed him, and mistaking 
 the cause of his confusion, said to him, 
 
 " Nay, do not feel embarrassed at what I have 
 said to you, but go on in the same honourable 
 course you have hitherto done, protecting the un- 
 fortunate, administering comfort to those in distress, 
 and keeping together in the fold those whom the 
 wolves among us would destroy. I have frequently 
 heard of your good works, and now, on my own part, 
 and that of my fellow-sufferers, I thank you for them." 
 Then turning to Ochino, who had now joined them, 
 she said : " A more useful or energetic member of 
 our party we have not among us, and I only hope 
 that Heaven will grant him health and strength to. 
 continue the good work he has put his hand to." 
 
 Ochino also complimented the young man on the 
 interest he had taken in the movement, and they 
 then entered into conversation on the position and 
 hopes of the Reformers in Geneva. Camille ex- 
 plained to him how strong was the influence of 
 Calvin among the churches in that part of Switzer-,, 
 land, and with what devotion the inhabitants of the 
 town regarded him. 
 
 " And may they long continue to do so,'' said 
 Ochino, " for he is one of our brightest lights." 
 
 " Earnestly I wish," said Renee, " he would again 
 visit us, although I am afraid there is but little chance 
 of our seeing him. In a letter I received from him 
 a few days ago, he told me, that much as he wished 
 to visit Ferrara, so numerous and responsible were 
 his calls, that it was, at any rate for the present, 
 impossible for him to come here. Many were 
 the messages he sent to different friends in the 
 city, some, alas !" continued Ren^e with much sym- 
 pathy in her tone, " to those who within the last 
 year have suffered persecution unto death for their 
 adherence to the truth. He also inquired as to 
 the progress of the school which he established 
 for the poorer members of our community on his 
 last visit here, but which, I am sorry to say, has for 
 more than two years been abandoned." 
 
> 
 
 o 
 
 IS 
 
 r 
 
 ts 
 
 s 
 ts 
 > 
 
 > 
 w 
 w 
 
 W 
 O 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 25 
 
 "To hear your Highness say so pains me 
 greatly," said Ochino. " The continuance of his 
 school would indeed have been a benefit, training up, 
 as it did, in the right way, the children of those too 
 poor or too ignorant to guide them themselves." 
 
 " Had we been allowed to continue the school 
 without opposition, your remark would have been 
 perfectly true," said Judge Rosetti, who had now 
 joined the group. "We found that the. children 
 were tracked to their homes by spies, and thus 
 many of those who belonged to us were detected 
 by the Inquisition. Emissaries were immediately 
 sent to insist on the children bei^g sent to the 
 Romish schools. If the parents obeyed, and they 
 consented to attend the mass themselves, by way 
 of proving that they had not joined the Protestant 
 faith, nothing more was said on the matter ; but if 
 not, the children were taken forcibly from them, 
 and the parents themselves imprisoned. With such 
 power brought against the poor and ignorant, you 
 may easily imagine that many relapses occurred ; 
 and sorely as it went against our consciences, or 
 rather against our wishes, we considered it more 
 prudent to close the school." 
 
 "But," said Rende, with considerable pride in 
 her tone and manner, " if we have been obliged to 
 close our school for children, we have on the other 
 hand established one for adults, which is succeed- 
 ing beyond our expectation. Near the palace of 
 the Consandolo we have a mission, which is making 
 converts, and although they are far from being as 
 numerous as those who leave us, still we have suf- 
 ficient success to show that the wish to join us has 
 still great strength." 
 
 '' Are the Inquisitors aware of the existence of 
 this mission?" inquired Ochino. 
 
 " Fortunately, up to the present time they have 
 remained in utter ignorance of it," said Ren^e, 
 " and I trust they may continue so till at any rate 
 we shall have gathered sufficient strength not to 
 dread their attacks." 
 
 " At the same time," put in the Judge, " I am 
 in daily fear that it will come under the notice of 
 the Inquisition. However, Providence has favoured 
 us up to the present time, and that without our taking 
 the slightest pains to conceal the movement." 
 
 While the Duchess conversed with great anima- 
 tion with the group which had gathered round her, 
 a conversation scarcely less animated was carried 
 on among the other guests, all touching on the 
 difficulties and dangers which surrounded the Re- 
 formers in Ferrara. By degrees the conversation 
 took a higher tone, and among the younger men 
 the question began to be entertained, whether they 
 would not be justified in the eye of the law in 
 offering open resistance to the persecution they 
 were suffering, some maintaining that the Inquisi- 
 tors had far outstripped their powers in taking 
 from the civil judges the jurisdiction of all eccle- 
 siastical cases, involving the liberty and lives of 
 the laity. In one group especially this question 
 was argued with great vigour. Some advocated 
 passive submission to the power of the Inquisitors 
 
 till Heaven should, in its own good time, deliver 
 them from the hand of the persecutor; whilst others 
 maintained that the acts of the Inquisitors being 
 illegal, all were justified in opposing them. At last 
 one of the speakers turned round to Camille Gurdon, 
 and asked him in what manner his countrymen 
 would behave if treated with similar injustice. 
 
 " I have some diffidence in answerinj your 
 question," replied Camille. " I am here a stranger 
 receiving hospitality from the authorities of Ferrara, 
 and I hardly know whether I should be justified 
 in so doing, as it might be considered that I was 
 putting before you a bad example. But although 
 I may be somewhat outstepping the bounds of dis- 
 cretion, I will without hesitation admit that in my 
 own beloved country, no matter whether Protestant 
 or Catholic, not for one week would a state of 
 things be allowed to exist such as at this moment 
 reigns in Ferrara. From our first union as a nation 
 to the present time, we have always resented any 
 arbitrary or despotic interference with our laws, 
 and we have ever felt sympathy with those suffering 
 under persecution." 
 
 " In what manner, then, would you advise us to 
 act?" 
 
 " There I can give you no decided answer," said 
 Camille. 
 
 " But as a lawyer yourself you ought to be able 
 to advise us." 
 
 " Nay, you do me too much honour in calUng me a 
 lawyer," said Gurdon. " Here I profess myself to be 
 only a student. Why not put your question to one 
 more competent to answer it?" he continued, seeing 
 Rosetti advancing towards them. " Here comes your 
 senior Judge, and one of the most learned lawyers 
 in Italy. Why not ask him for his opinion ? " 
 
 The eyes of the whole group now turned on the 
 Judge, and they made room for him to join them 
 as he, with Teresa leaning on his arm, approached. 
 
 " You all lookat me as if you had some question to 
 put to me," he said. " If so, let me know what it is." 
 
 " We were debating whether in point of law we 
 should be justified in openly resisting the Inquisition, 
 and we appealed to Camille Gurdon for his opinion. 
 He refuses, however, to give it us, fearing that by 
 so doing he might be considered guilty of urging 
 us to rebellion against the laws of Ferrara, which 
 he would not be justified in doing, considering he 
 is receiving hospitality from the State." 
 
 " Gurdon is quite right in declining to answer a 
 question of the kind," replied the Judge ; " for the 
 interference of a foreigner in the affairs of another 
 country is always looked upon with jealousy." 
 
 " But he referred us to you for an opinion," said 
 a law student who was present. 
 
 "And I must decline giving it," said Rosetti, 
 " beyond stating that I hold the present behaviour 
 of the Inquisition to be utterly illegal. At the 
 same time, between holding that opinion and ad- 
 vising you to open resistance there is a wide 
 difference. Setting apart the question of legality, 
 the imprudence of an attempt at open opposition 
 must be apparent. Not only in Ferrara might it 
 
26 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 bring down the power of the persecutor more 
 terribly upon us, but it might stimulate to further 
 action the power of the Inquisition in other cities 
 in Italy where our Protectant brethren are less 
 numerous than they are here, and their means of 
 defence comparatively small. No, be assured the 
 best power for us to look to for help in this cause 
 is Heaven, though, I suppose," he continued, turn- 
 ing to Camille Gurdon, on whose handsome face a 
 flush of honest indignation was plainly perceptible, 
 "you sturdy Republicans think differently, and 
 would rise against the oppressor, no matter how 
 great the odds might be." 
 
 " Candidly, Judge Rosetti, while respecting your 
 prudence, I must admit it is hardly the sort 
 
 of argument we are accustomed to hear in mv 
 country. There, the greater the number of the 
 persecutors the greater and more energetic the 
 resistance of the persecuted, their energies and 
 courage rising in proportion to the strength of the 
 oppressor. Pardon me if I say it, h\i{ it would have 
 pleased me more had I heard you adopt a different 
 style of argument. You doubtless think me pre- 
 sumptuous in addressing with so much candour a 
 man of your experience and learning ; but trust me, 
 it arises from no want of respect on my part, but is 
 due to the education and example I have had con- 
 tinually before my eyes from childhood upwards." 
 The young man spoke with so much honest in- 
 dignation that a murmur of admiration arose from 
 
 Page 27. 
 
 the whole group, which had now considerably 
 augmented in numbers, others being anxious to 
 listen to the arguments carried on. Gurdon seemed 
 to have inspired the younger portion of his 
 audience with no inconsiderable share of his own 
 animation ; nor was the admiration confined solely 
 to them. The ladies of the group seemed equally 
 pleased with his address and manner, and none 
 among them more so than Teresa Rosetti, who 
 gazed on him with undisguised satisfaction. 
 
 " My dear young friend," said the Judge, " believe 
 me no one present admires your enthusiasm more 
 than I do. But you must remember that we have 
 a different element to contend with here from what 
 
 you have in Switzerland, and a system that will 
 answer with you would hardly succeed with us." 
 
 " But why not first try the people before coming 
 to that conclusion ? Very possibly you may find 
 among them far more energy than you calculate 
 on." 
 
 "Camille," said the Judge, "you misunderstand 
 me. I have no fear of either the courage or energy 
 of my fellow-townsmen. Still I hold that, de- 
 moralised as we are at the present moment, it 
 would be impolitic to attempt physically to place 
 the civil law over the ecclesiastical. That in your 
 own country you can quote many brilliant ex- 
 amples of independent thought and action among 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 37 
 
 the people is trae, but scarcely any more so than 
 histcry records of our citizens of Ferrara. Who 
 sheltered the fugitive Jews of Spain and Portugal 
 from their tormentors, and offered them an asylum 
 and protection more boldly and resolutely than the 
 citizens of Ferrara? When in the time of Duke Ercole 
 the Great the Church claimed in Ferrara, as in other 
 ■cities, the right of sanctuary — ^that of defending 
 criminals who had rushed into ecclesiastical build- 
 ings for protection and shelter — did not we refuse 
 to allow it even when the threat of the greater ex- 
 communication was brought against us ? And seeing 
 our determined opposition, did not the Pope him- 
 self give way ? What people ever fought more reso- 
 lutely against an oppressor than those of Ferrara 
 under the late Duke Alfonso against Pope Julius II., 
 supported as he was by half Europe ? Go further 
 back, and when the Inquisitor, even with the pro- 
 tection of the Marquis Azzo d'Este, stole in the 
 night, from its tomb irtf the Cathedral, thirty years 
 after his death, the body of Amianno Pungilupo, 
 whom they had declared heretic, with the intention 
 of burning it in the Piazza, did not the people' of 
 Ferrara attack the Inquisitor and the Marquis, and 
 publicly replace the body in the Cathedral in spite 
 of all the force which could be brought against 
 them? No, my friend, believe me, native energy 
 is no more wanting among the Ferrarese than among 
 the noble-minded Swiss themselves." 
 
 The retirement of the Duchess to her private 
 apartments was accepted as a warning by the 
 assembled guests that it was time to leave the 
 palace. Nevertheless the leave-taking was so long 
 that a considerable time elapsed before the corridor 
 was clear. The happy evening they had spent, and 
 the brotherly love their meeting had elicited, seemed 
 to act like a charm which bound them together in 
 a bond of unity it was painful to break. At last 
 the order of their leaving was determined on, 
 for short as the passage might be from the palace 
 to their dwellings, it was attended with consider- 
 able danger. Some of the younger, and among 
 them Camille Gurdon, proposed they should leave 
 in a body, so that they might be a mutual protec- 
 tion to one another in case they should meet any 
 of the city guards on their road. The graver mem- 
 bers, however, objecting to any display of force, sug- 
 gested that they should leave in small parties, so 
 
 that if they met any of the spies they might not 
 excite suspicion. This plan was at last adopted, 
 and the company slowly and gradually began to 
 disperse, till none were left but Camille Gurdon 
 and the Judge Rosetti. They remained some time 
 longer conversing with Teresa and another lady-in- 
 waiting, with whose services the Duchess had dis- 
 pensed in order that Teresa might remain some 
 time longer in her father's society. At last they 
 also took their leave, Camille proposing to accom- 
 pany the Judge to his home. 
 
 Rosetti and his young friend met with no im- 
 pediment on their road. As they proceeded they 
 conversed together almost in whispers, for fear of 
 being overheard, on the events of the evening, 
 especially on the preaching of Ochino. Camille 
 appeared delighted with his eloquence. " I have 
 heard," he said, "the best preachers in Geneva, 
 including our great leader John Calvin himself, 
 but I never heard one who approached Ochino 
 in eloquence. No wonder the court of Rome are 
 so anxious for his apprehension. He is a host in 
 himself, and were he again to preach in the cathe- 
 dral, and advocate the pure principles of the Refor- 
 mation, he would convert all Ferrara." 
 
 " That he would do so if he could obtain the 
 opportunity," said the Judge, "is most probable, 
 but unfortunately such a step is not possible. 
 Were it known that he is among us, he would im- 
 mediately be arrested. Even during his lecture, 
 and delighted as I was with it, I was unable to 
 divest myself of the fear that among those listen- 
 ing to him might be some traitor that merely paid 
 attention to his discourse for the purpose of de- 
 nouncing him to-morrow." 
 
 "But surely," said Gurdon, "the Duchess would 
 not allow him to be arrested in her palace, and 
 while under her protection." 
 
 "That she would oppose his arrest by every 
 means in her power is certain," said Rosetti ; " but 
 I much fear in Ochino's case her power would be 
 but of little avail. No, we must make what pro- 
 vision we can for his departure, and that as quickly 
 as possible. Call on me early to-morrow morning, 
 and let us talk over the matter." 
 
 Gurdon promised he would do so, and having 
 now arrived at the apartments of the Judge, the 
 two friends separated. 
 
28 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER V. — TERF.SA'S VISITOR. 
 
 LTHOUGH 
 it was still 
 early when 
 Camille Gur- 
 don called on 
 the Judge the 
 next morning, 
 he had already 
 seen several 
 of those who 
 had attended 
 Ochino's ser- 
 mon the evan- 
 ing before. 
 Tothejudge's 
 inquiries whe- 
 ther they had 
 met with any 
 impediments 
 on their road 
 home, C a- 
 mille replied 
 that tHey had 
 met with none whatever, but that the streets had 
 seemed singularly quiet and deserted. One or 
 two had eneountered the guard, but on replying 
 when challenged, they were suffered to proceed 
 unmolested. All seemed much pleased with, their 
 meeting, and augured that a greater amount of re- 
 ligious freedom would be allowed them from the 
 fact, that so many could assemble and leave without 
 danger. So emboldened did they feel, that several 
 of them had requested him to obtain permission 
 from the Duchess for another prayer-meeting to be 
 held in her palace. Camille promised that he would 
 convey their wishes to the Judge Rosetti, and im- 
 plore him, should he see no difficulty in the way, 
 to apply to her Highness on the subjects as they 
 considered he had great influence with her. 
 
 "I will do so willingly," replied the Judge, 
 " although I am not certain it would be unattended 
 with danger. At the same time a renewal of the 
 peace and happiness we enjoyed yesterday evening 
 is too great a temptation to be easily resisted. 
 Still, if it be done at all, we must lose no time 
 about it, as every day that Ochino remains in 
 Ferrara the greater his risk. Again, it is impos- 
 sible for me to wait on her Highness this morn- 
 ing, as it is my turn of duty at the Palace of 
 Justice. But that difficulty may be overcome, I 
 think. I will immediately write a letter to the 
 Duchess, which I will get you to take, asking her 
 again to grant the use of her chapel for our meeting, 
 as it is the earnest wish of so many of her Protes- 
 tant subjects in Ferrara. I will also say in the 
 letter that the bearer, should her Highness re- 
 quire it, will give her further information on ths 
 matter." • 
 
 A gleam of satisfaction was .plainly visible on 
 
 Camille's face when h'e heard the Judge's pro- 
 position. 
 
 " But I am afraid," he said, " I shall not be able 
 to obtain an interview with the Duchess. She might 
 consider it an act of presumption on my part were 
 I to ask it." 
 
 " I did not propose that you should," replied the 
 Judge, who was now seated at the table with the 
 writing materials before him. " I intend merely 
 to suggest that you would be able to give her the 
 information should she require it. Nevertheless it 
 will give me great satisfaction if you. could contrive 
 to obtain an interview with her. Possibly," he 
 continued, " your better way would be to ask to 
 see my daughter, and say that you have brought 
 a message from me. Give Teresa the letter, and 
 request her to place it in the hands of the Duchess. 
 After she has read it, should she make any remark 
 as to its contents, Teresa can inform her that you 
 are waiting for a reply, and in all probability she 
 will request to see you. I think you will have no 
 difficulty in the matter. You are already well 
 known to her, and I have mentioned your name 
 in the letter. If you do see the Duchess, do not 
 fail to impress upon her the danger Ochino is in, 
 and the necessity there is for taking early steps to 
 allow him to escape. That will arouse her to re- 
 newed energy, and she will come sooner to a 
 determination as to the assistance she intends to 
 afford him in establishing his mission church in 
 Zurich. There is the letter, but before you go, 
 tell me if you have thought of any plan by which 
 Ochino may effect his escape to Venice." 
 
 "I have reflected but little on the subject," 
 repUed Camille, " but that little encourages me to 
 think it may be done without much difficulty or 
 danger, that is to say, provided few only are en- 
 trusted with the secret." 
 
 " The fewer the better," said Rosetti. " Have 
 you then thought of a plan we could adopt ?" 
 
 " I have," replied Camille, " and one in which 
 it would be difficult to have fewer confidants. I 
 propose hiring a boat, which shall be moored on 
 the river-bank a little below Mal-Albergo. As the 
 current is at present strong and the river high, one 
 other rower besides myself will be sufficient. I 
 know a man who will suit my purpose admirably. 
 He is a powerful, good-natured fellow, not over 
 intelligent, and knows the river perfectly. I can 
 easily frame some excuse to him and say I wish to 
 row down the river a friend of mine, a Capuchin 
 Friar (for Ochino must again wear his disguise), 
 who is bound on a mission of mercy to some sick 
 person near Commacchio. At daybreak when the 
 city gates are opened, Ochino, with his cowl cover- 
 ing his face, and his wallet slung over his shoulder, 
 can pass out, while I will be in waiting for him by 
 the river-side, and once afloat, it will be difficult 
 indeed to overtake us." 
 
 " Well, Camille," said Rosetti, " in your hands I 
 
THE JUDGE AND CAMILLE GURDON. 
 
 Page 23 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 31 
 
 leave the means for Ochino's escape from Ferrara. 
 The plan you propose seems simple and feasible, 
 and as far as I understand the matter, may be 
 carried out with comparative security. At the same 
 time, if you should consider it advisable to change 
 it, or even make some alteration in it, let me know, 
 and I will assist you as far as in my power. You 
 had better now no longer delay your visit to the 
 Palace, and it is also nearly time for me to take 
 my seat in Court. Meet me here this evening, and 
 let me know what has been decided on." 
 
 On arriving at the Palace, Camille Gurdon had 
 some little difficulty in getting his message taken 
 to Teresa Rosetti. On his explainiiig that he 
 came from the Judge, her father, and that he 
 had a letter from him to deliver, the porter asked 
 him for it. Camille declined, however, to give it to 
 any one but Teresa, saying that, in asking for a 
 personal interview with her, he was only carrying 
 out the instructions of the Judge. A messenger 
 was now sent to the private room of the young 
 Princesses with whom Teresa then was. On re- 
 ceiving the message Teresa inquired who had 
 brought the letter, and was told it was a young well- 
 dressed Signore, who spoke with a slight foreign 
 accent. Teresa, from the description, easily identi- 
 fied the messenger as Camille, and a slight blush 
 suffused her face, which did not escape the notice 
 of the Princesses, or of the elderly, discreet Catholic 
 ladies, one of whom was a nun, who were present 
 at the time. On noticing the effect the message 
 had produced on Teresa, a significant, momentary 
 glance passed from the elder lady to the nun, 
 while a good-humoured, malicious smile, almost 
 amounting to a laugh, was indulged in by the 
 young Princesses. Poor Teresa, finding that the 
 eyes of her companions were fixed on her, hesitated 
 what to do. The Princess Lucrezia, noticing her 
 confusion, said to her — 
 
 " Nay, my dear Teresa, do not keep the foreign 
 genrteman waiting." 
 
 " It was very kind of him to call at this dull 
 Palace of ours on a message from your father," said 
 the Princess Eleanora. " Pray, make him welcome, 
 even if he is the arch-heretic Calvin himself." 
 
 " May I remind you," said the elderly lady, "that 
 any conversation or allusion to matters of the kind 
 are most distasteful to his Highness the Duke ? " 
 
 " Oh ! do not fear me. Donna Bonifazio. I do 
 not intend to enter into any theological discussion. 
 I have strictly obeyed his Highness on that point, 
 have I not, Teresa, much as I love you ? But 
 once more, do not keep your foreign friend waiting, 
 he will speak but lightly of our hospitality when he 
 returns to Geneva if you do, for I suppose he 
 comes from that city." 
 
 Teresa, perceiving that by going at once she 
 wo'jld escape the jests of her friends, rose from 
 her embroidery frame, and requested that Ma- 
 donna Bonifazio would be present at her interview 
 with the messenger, a request which was readily 
 complied with. Leaving the room together, they 
 passed through a corridor extending the whole 
 
 length of the building, the apartments of the Prin- 
 cesses being at one extremity of tne Palace, the 
 private apartments of the Duchess in che cen- 
 tre, and the general public reception rooms at 
 the other end. In one of these Teresa found 
 Camille Gurdon. Being already fully convinced 
 who her visitor really was, she advanced with- 
 out hesitation to meet him, while Madonna Boni- 
 fazio, once in his presence, discreetly remained out 
 of ear-shot. Camille explained to her the purport 
 of the letter he had brought from her father, and 
 his wish that if possible he should have an inter- 
 view with the Duchess. 
 
 " Give me the letter," said Teresa, " and I will im- 
 mediately convey it to the Duchess. I have no doubt 
 whatever she will grant you the interview you desire." 
 
 Camille gave her the letter, ^d Teresa con- 
 tinued, turning to Madonna Bonifazio, "This gen- 
 tleman has brought with him a letter for her 
 Highness, and wishes for an interview with her. 
 I will myself take her the letter and bring back 
 the reply, and if you will kindly remain here in the 
 meantime, I have no doubt I shall be able to 
 return in a few moments." 
 
 Madonna Bonifazio now advanced and entered 
 into conversation with the young Swiss on subjects 
 of common interest, taking care, although she 
 believed him to be a Protestant, not to touch oa 
 the forbidden subject of religion. The pair con- 
 versed together for some time, the lady evidently 
 pleased with the courteous manner and language 
 of the young foreigner. At last they were inter- 
 rupted by Teresa, who returned with a message 
 from the Duchess, requesting to see Camille, and 
 the three then left the room together, Teresa and 
 Camille entering the apartments of the Duchess, 
 while Madonna Bonifazio continued onwards till 
 she had reached those of the Princesses. On her 
 entrance they both rose to meet her and eagerly 
 asked for a description of the gentleman who had 
 called to see Teresa. Madonna Bonifazio, how- 
 ever, seemed but little inclined to gratify their 
 curiosity, merely saying that he was evidently a 
 very courteous gentleman, whom the Duchess, 
 when she heard he had arrived, requested to see. 
 Nor, in spite of the rigid cross-examination of the 
 young ladies, could they obtain anything more from 
 her; and the subject for the time dropped, though 
 evidently without the curiosity of the Princesses 
 being satisfied. They tacitly resolved to question 
 Teresa when they should see her. Shortly after- 
 wards they left the room to seek their Own cham- 
 bers, and the nun rose from her seat to follow 
 them. The feminine weakness of curiosity, how- 
 ever, was as ripe in the bosom of the nun as in 
 those of the young ladies, although she had asked 
 no questions in their presence. On passing Ma- 
 donna Bonifazio, she said to her, in an under tone, 
 " Who was Teresa's visitor?" 
 
 "I do not know more of him than this,'' was the 
 reply — " if he is an emissary from Calvin, and we 
 have many such calling, the sooner Father Pelle- 
 tario returns to the Palace the better." 
 
32 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 On being introduced- to the Duchess, Camille 
 Gurdon was received by her with great condescen- 
 sion. 
 
 " I have read your father's letter,'' she said to 
 Teresa, " and I hardly know what reply to make 
 him. He may be perfectly certain that my chapel 
 is at the service of our brethren should they require 
 it, but I much doubt whether it would be prudent 
 to have another prayer-meeting so soon. Have 
 you heard," she continued, turning to Camille 
 Gurdon, " whether those who attended here yester- 
 day evening received any annoyance on their road 
 home?" 
 
 " 1 have seen several," was the reply, " and in 
 no case did any of them receive the slightest moles- 
 tation." 
 
 " I am most happy to hear it," said the Duchess. 
 "However, I will speak to our Reverend Pastor 
 Ochino, and ask his advice. All things considered, 
 I think it would be better to delay for a day or two." 
 " But pardon me, your Highness," said Camille, 
 " I understood that his stay in Ferrara was to be 
 very short." | 
 
 " The longer he remains with us the better," said 
 Ren^e, " so that he can do it in safety. While he , 
 ■ keeps in the palace there will be no danger of his | 
 being recognised, as none of the Catholic ladies 
 of my court saw him when he was last in Ferrara." , 
 " But is he not in danger of being recognised by 
 the Father Pelletario ?" remarked Camille. " For- 
 merly, I understand, they were very intimate." I 
 "The Father Pelletario is at present with the 
 Duke my husband at Belriguardo," was Rente's , 
 reply, " and it is uncertain when he will return to 
 the city. You have not heard the subject spoken j 
 of, Teresa, have you?" 
 
 " I heard Madonna Bonifazio say the other day 
 that she had received a message from the Father 
 Pelletario, stating that most probably he should 
 remain at Belriguardo till the Duke's return to the 
 city, and that they would arrive together." 
 
 " I dd not expect his Highness will return for 
 some days," said Rende, " therefore we need be in 
 no hurry for a day or two. I will talk the matter 
 of the next prayer-meeting over with our Pastor, 
 and let you know his reply. But now," she con- 
 tinued, addressing herself to Camille, "did I rightly 
 understand you were a native of Geneva?" 
 " I am, your Highness." 
 
 " Are you acquainted with our great leader John 
 Calvin?" 
 
 " I have spoken to him but once or twice," said 
 
 Gurdon, "though I know many of his intimate 
 
 associates, and have heard him p. each frequently." 
 
 " Are you acquainted with any one residing in 
 
 the same house with him?" 
 
 " Yes, more than one." 
 
 " Might I trust you, then," said Rende, " to 
 convey to him a letter from me? I received one 
 Irom that good man a few days since, in which he 
 complains that I do not write to him, and he trusts 
 I am not getting lukewarm in the faith. Now I 
 have written to him several times lately, and he 
 
 evidently has not received my letters. Might I 
 trust in you?" 
 
 "You may, your Highness," said Camille, "as 
 implicitly as in yourself. Confide to me your letter, 
 and my death alone shall prevent his receiving it." 
 
 " Call on me this evening, then," said Rende, 
 "and the letter shall be ready for you. If you 
 succeed in transmitting it to him, you will do me a 
 great favour. But now te:l me, has any plan been 
 suggested for our Reverend Pastor Ochino to leave 
 Ferrara in safety?" 
 
 " I have conceived a plan by which I think he 
 may do so without difficulty or danger," said 
 Camille, " and one in which I have not to fear the 
 indiscretion or treachery of any one;" and he then 
 narrated to the Duchess the plan he proposed 
 adopting, on which he was much complimented 
 by her Highness. 
 
 The interview continued but a short time longer, 
 when the Duchess permitted Camille Gurdon to 
 depart, requesting him to call in the evening for 
 the letter she wished to forward to the great Re- 
 former in Geneva. On leaving the room Teresa 
 conducted Camille as far as the ante-chamber. 
 Before quitting her, he said— 
 
 " Do you think I shall have any difficulty this 
 evening in being admitted into the presence of the 
 Duchess?" 
 
 " None whatever," said Teresa. " You may rest 
 assured every facility will be shown you." 
 
 " Still," said Camille, " I should hardly like to 
 be conducted to her Higjiness by any one in whom 
 I could not positively confide. The commission 
 she has giyen me is a somewhat difficult one, and 
 the fewer entrusted with the secret the better. 
 Would you object to be present at the time? You 
 have already heard her mention her wish, and it 
 would be advisable that no one else should know 
 it. Now do oblige me." 
 
 " If you wish it I will be present," said Teresa, 
 slightly colouring. " But now I must leave you to 
 attend on the Duchess, so good-bye till evening." ^ 
 
 Teresa then left him, and returned to the room 
 she had just quitted. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. A DANGEROUS COMMISSION. 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day, after the 
 duties of Judge Rosetti at the Palace of Justice 
 were over, Camille Gurdon related to him the in- 
 terview he had had in the morning with Renee, 
 saying how she was unable at the moment to give 
 any decided answer as to allowing another prayer- 
 meeting to be held in the chapel till she had 
 spoken to Ochino on the subject , He iurther 
 informed Rosetti that the Jesuit Father was then 
 absent, and not expected to arrive in Ferrara till the 
 Duke himself returned, and that no other person in 
 the palace would be able to recognise him. t 
 
 " So far that is fortunate," said the Judge, " and 
 it relieves my mind from a considerable amount of 
 anxiety. Her Highness did not state when she 
 would be able to give an answer respecting the 
 chapel ?" 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 33 
 
 "She did not," said Gurdon, "but requested me 
 to call on her again this evening, when very pos- 
 sibly I shall have her reply. Her Highness also 
 spoke on another subject, which doubtless she would 
 have no objection to speak of to you ; but, as I have 
 not yet received her authority, you will pardon me 
 if I do not mention it I have no doubt this 
 evening she will authorise me to confide it to you." 
 
 " You are quite right, Caniille," said the Judge, 
 " not to divulge her secret till you have her autho- 
 rity for doing so. But I trust you will be on the 
 alert as to any rumours respecting Ochino's pre- 
 sence in Ferrara, and have the boat in readiness, 
 that he may be able, in case of danger, to depart 
 at an hour's notice." 
 
 Although the apartments of the Princesses were 
 separate from those occupied by the Duchess, the 
 most perfect freedom of access existed between 
 them. Rende, as before stated, was tenderly at- 
 tached to her daughters, and the love they bore 
 their mother was that , of devoted and affectionate 
 children. Yet a singular feature existed in their 
 family love. Tenderly attached as they were, and 
 happy in each other's society, that great bond of 
 family love — unity of religious opinions — was ut- 
 terly wanting. It was their custom to meet together 
 in the apartments of the Duchess each afternoon. 
 Religion was to them all a proscribed subject, 
 under penalty of the absolute separation of the 
 mother from her daughters, so that while the 
 warmest display of iamily love was developed in 
 their meetings, each had to put a guai-d on hei 
 tongue. lest the subject held dear — religion — might 
 come to the lips. And this must have been the 
 more painful to them, as the Princesses were as 
 ardently Roman Catholic as their mother was Pro- 
 testant. In their afternoon meetings, on all sub- 
 jects than the one most esteemed by them, the 
 most unrestrained freedom prevailed. The some- 
 whqf taciturn habits of Rende would then relax, 
 and she would enter, with the most perfect effusion 
 of heart, into the details of her daughters' conver- 
 sation, — into descriptions of their amusements, and 
 consultations orf dress — a subject which Rende, 
 Frenchwoman as she -vvas, always appeared to hold 
 but in slight estimation — and join in the innocent 
 gossiping of her children with an eagerness which 
 formed a s,ingula.r contrast to her ordinary staid 
 • and somewhat reserved manner. In these after- 
 noon re-unions the gaiety of heart developed in 
 Ren& .3,nd her daughters seemed also to commu- 
 nicate itself to the attendants. Madonna Bonifazio, 
 who accompanied the Princesses (neither Sister 
 Laura, the nun, nor Father Pelletario, the Jesuit con- 
 fessor, being ever admitted into Rente's presence), 
 and Donna Ponte, an elderly Protestant Swiss from 
 one of the Italian cantons ; and they would con- 
 verse together with the Duchess and her children 
 withperfect friendship and good feeling. 
 . On the afternoon in question, a slight difference 
 was observable in the manner in which the conversa- 
 tion was carried on. The Duchess, instead of, as 
 usual occupying herself with her daughters, con- 
 3 
 
 versed principally with the two elderly ladies. This 
 was probably due to the conduct of the two Prin- 
 cesses, who had contrived to draw Teresa into a 
 corner of the room, overwhelming her with questions, 
 half serious, halfjesting, on the handsome foreigner 
 who had called, in the morning. All these Teresa, 
 possibly not displeased at the insinuations of her 
 companions that the real object of the young 
 foreigner's visit was herself and not their mother, 
 parried as she best could ; nor did she escape from 
 her tormentors till a short time before the meeting 
 broke -up, when the Duchess called her daughters 
 to her, and after conversing with them for some 
 time on ordinary topics, dismissed them and retired 
 to her own room, taking Teresa with her. 
 
 " I do not feel very well this evening," she said 
 to Teresa, "my head aches, and my eyes smart. 
 I have probably over-fatigued them by writing this 
 long letter. I am not sure whether I shall be well 
 enough to give an audience to your father's Iriend 
 when he calls this evening, but I fear not. In that 
 case you had better seeihim yourself, Teresa. If 
 you do, pray impress upon him the necessity of 
 using great caution, so that the letter may not mis- 
 carry." 
 
 " If your Highness orders it, of course it is not 
 for me to disobey," said Teresa, " but at the same 
 
 time " and here she stopped short, as if afraid 
 
 to conclude the sentence. 
 
 " I think I understand you, Teresa," said Rende. 
 " You doubt the propriety of your seeing him alone, 
 and I compliment you on it. But I had no inten- 
 tion oi proposing it to you. You can have one of 
 the ladies-in-waiting with you, so that no miscon- 
 struction can be placed on your interview." 
 
 "But in that case," said Teresa, "your secret 
 would be confided to another." 
 
 " Hardly so," said the Duchess. " Take with you 
 Donna Ponte ; you can speak French fluently, and 
 she does not understand a word of the language. 
 Converse then iri French, and she will be ignorant 
 of the object of your interview." 
 
 " Should she inquire," said Teresa, " what answer 
 shall I make her?" 
 
 " Refer her to me, that is all you have to do. 
 Now, do not fail to impress upon the youth the 
 absolute necessity there is that he should conduct 
 himself with great discretion in the matter, and that 
 as much for his own safety — or more so perhaps — 
 than mine ; as, should he be discovered, but little 
 mercy would await him at the hands of the In- 
 quisitor." 
 
 " There is no necessity for me to dwell on tht 
 last reason," said Teresa, somewhat warmlj. " My 
 father's friend, Camille Gurdon, requires nv. better 
 stimulus for energy and secrecy than the wish to 
 obey your Highness, and the success of our cause." 
 
 " Well," said Ren^e, smiling at the earnestness 
 of the girl's manner, " if I have done him an in- 
 justice I regret it. Since, then, I have so devoted 
 a servant, tell him I rely implicitly on his discretion; 
 that I leel persuaded he will carry out his conunis- 
 sion with tact and energy. Tell him, if he succeeds 
 
34 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA- 
 
 I will give him a reward that shall prove to him my 
 gratitude for the service he has done me. Now 
 take the letter, Teresa, and meet him when he 
 comes, for I feel I shall not be able to see him 
 myself." 
 
 Teresa took the letter, and retired to her own 
 room; and when there, attempted to think over, 
 with a cool brain, the events of the day, and 
 especially her conversation with the Duchess and 
 her daughters in the afternoon. Although her con- 
 versation with the Princesses was in reality xarried 
 on more in^ jest than earnest, it had left a somewhat 
 deeper impression on the mind of the young girl 
 than she herself perhaps would willingly have 
 allowed. Again, it must be admitted that she had 
 already conceived a considerable amount of admir- 
 ation for the handsome and talented young Swiss. 
 But although she had met him often, little con- 
 versation had ever passed between them, either 
 her father or some female friend having invariably 
 been present. Teresa's regard for the young 
 fellow, however, had already reached that point 
 when simple admiration is about to ripen into a 
 warmer feeling, which her conversation with the 
 Princesses that afternoon had tended consider- 
 ably to develop. Again, there was another point 
 which caused her much consideration. What could 
 be the reward which the Duchess intended to pre- 
 sent to Camille should he succeed in the commis- 
 sion he had undertaken? There was a mystery 
 about it she could not unravel. Could she have 
 meant by it that Camille Gurdon 
 
 Before the thought had been perfectly formed 
 Teresa had already regretted it, and felt angry with 
 herself for having begun to entertain it. But in 
 spite of her reasoning she could not divest herself 
 of the impression that the Duchess had uttered the 
 words with peculiar significance in her tone and 
 manner. Then again Teresa rejected the idea, and 
 then again it recurred to her, and thus alternately 
 doubting and resolving the time passed till evening 
 had closed in; and then she began to collect her 
 wits for the interview with Camille, postponing for 
 future consideration the question whether the 
 Duchess intended to present the young Swiss with 
 her hand in case he should successfully carry out 
 the commission intrusted to him. 
 
 Teresa now went to the apartments of Donna 
 Ponte, to request her presence at the interview with 
 Camille Gurdon. tor some time Donna Ponte 
 objected, as she did not consider it prudent on the 
 part of Teresa to hold an interview with so young 
 a man, and it was only after Teresa had shown her 
 the letter of the Duchess (taking good care not to 
 let her see the superscription), and assuring her 
 that it was by desire of the Duchess she was to 
 meet Camille, and that her Highness had wished 
 her (Donna Ponte) to be present, that she con- 
 sented, and they descended together into the large 
 hall where members of the household were accus- 
 tomed to meet strangers who called on them. On 
 their way thither a servant met them, who informed 
 them that the foreign gentleman- who had called in 
 
 the morning had a/ rived, and wished to be pre- 
 sented to the Duchess ; but as her Highness was 
 indisposed that evening,, he had come for instruc- 
 tions on the subject. He received for answer that 
 the stranger was to be shown into the hall, and 
 shortly afterward Teresa and her companion entered, 
 and found Camille awaiting thenu Teresa imme- 
 diately advanced to meet him. 
 
 " Her Highness," she said in French, " has re- 
 quested me to see you, as it is not convenient at 
 present for her to receive you. She told me to give 
 you this letter, and impress on you the necessity 
 of using great caution in forwarding it to its desti- 
 nation. I suppose I may inform her that you will 
 willingly do so ? " 
 
 " Most willingly," said Camille. " Tell her she 
 may rest positively certain it shall be forwarded 
 And is there no commission I can execute for 
 you?" 
 
 " None," said Teresa, somewhat surprised at the 
 question, " beyond carrying out iaithfuUje&e wishes 
 of her Highness." 
 
 " As I said before, that shall faithfully be done. 
 It would increase -the pleasure, however, if I had a 
 commission also to execute for you." 
 
 " I have none," said Teresa, with something like 
 agitation in her voice, " except requesting you to 
 give my love to my dear father." 
 
 Camille remained silent for a few moments, and 
 then said to her in a still lower tone of voice, — 
 
 " Oh ! how I wish I could have but a few 
 moments' conversation with you alone ! " , i 
 
 " For what purpose ? " said Teresa, assuming an 
 air of surprise. 
 
 " I cannot tell you," he said, looking towards 
 Donna Ponte, who, finding they were speaking 
 French, had retired with something of ill-humour to 
 some distance, so far, in fact, that she could scarcely 
 be seen, for although the hall was lighted up by a 
 brazen lamp in the centre, its rays were hardly 
 .sufficient to illumine the whole of the large saloon. 
 Teresa was silent for a moment, and then said,- 
 with considerable hesitation in her voice, — 
 
 " You can speak if you wish. My companion 
 understands no French." 
 
 " Even if that were the case," replied Camille, 
 " I have hardly the courage to address you on the 
 subject I wish. It is on the admiration I have for 
 you, which began from the first moment I saw you, 
 and which has gone on increasing since. In pit/s 
 sake tell me what I am to do." 
 
 " I can listen to no conversation of the kind," 
 said Teresa, " without first receiving permission 
 from my father and her Highness." 
 
 " Will you allow me, then, to speak to your 
 father ? " said Camille, breathless with anxiety. 
 
 " I have no right to forbid you," said Teresa, 
 puzzled what answer to make ; " you can if you 
 please." And then assuming more courage, she 
 continued, " But I cannot allow you to speak more 
 with me now, nor will I have any more conversa- 
 tion with .you on the subject until you have spoken 
 to' my father." .. 
 
THE STRUGGLE; IN FERRARA. 
 
 35 
 
 "Answer me but one question," said Camille, 
 " and I will obey you. May I tell your father you 
 gave me permission to speak to him?" 
 
 " No, certainly not," said Teresa ; " you must 
 take it on your own responsibility." 
 
 " May I hope," asked Camille, " that you wish 
 me success in my interview with your father ? " 
 
 " I will not say another word on the subject," 
 said Teresa, " and if you will not go, I must leave 
 you, and that will appear uncourteous." 
 
 " I must obey you, then," said Camille. And 
 taking her hand and kissing it respectfully, he, left, 
 the room. 
 
 As- soon as he had quitted them, Donna Ponte 
 said in a tone of ill-humour to Teresa, " I hardly 
 think it was particularly civil to me, or proper 
 bearing in a young girl, to converse with that 
 stranger in French, knowing, as you did, that I do 
 not understand the language. In my time young 
 girls behaved very differently. Not a word ever 
 passed between them and a young man without 
 some staid elderly lady being present at the time." 
 
 " I told you," said Teresa, " that it was the ex- 
 press wish of the Duchess that you should be 
 present at this interview, nor would I have received 
 the stranger unless you had been there. What you 
 say about my inclvihty in speaking French arose 
 from no fault of mine. I had the direct instruc- 
 tions of her Highness on the matter." 
 
 Donna Ponte made a gesture of doubt of so 
 marked a description, that Teresa could not fail to 
 notice it. 
 
 V " I told you the truth," she said, angrily, " and 
 to-morrow, in the presence of the Duchess, I will 
 get her to confirm what I say. At the same time 
 I don't like to be treated with incivility or doubt by 
 you. That you are my senior, I admit, but not my 
 superior." 
 
 -Teresa, finding that Donna Ponte was on the 
 point of making an angry reply, left her and walked 
 rapidly to her own room, nor did she leave it again 
 that evening. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. — ORIZ. 
 
 On the morning after the Duchess Rende had 
 despatched her letter to Calvin, a stranger in the 
 dress of a Dominican monk, attended by two 
 servants and three baggage mules, arrived at the 
 convent of the Corpus Domini, and requested to 
 see the Superior, Father Fabrizio. The lay-brother 
 who received the stranger informed him that the 
 Reverend Father was at that time much occupied j 
 in his private room, and had given orders that no 
 one should disturb him. 
 
 " He will make an exception in my case," said 
 the Dominican. " Pray take my message to him, 
 and then see that my servants and mules are pro- 
 perly accommodated." 
 
 The lay-brother for a moment hesitated what to 
 do, as the instructions he had received from his 
 Superior were imperative, and Father Fabrizio, who 
 at that time acted as the chief Inquisitor in Fer- 
 rara, was not a man likely to allow his orders to be 
 
 broken witli impunity. Still there was a calm self 
 possession in the stranger which puzzled the lay- 
 brother very much. Although he spoke in a quiet 
 and almost subdued tone, he seemed to possess 
 great determination of purpose, and his manner, 
 though quiet and courteous, was still of a descrip- 
 tion which showed he not only was accustomed to 
 command, but to be obeyed. 
 
 "Might I ask your name. Reverend Father?" 
 said the lay-brother. " I fear unless I take it to 
 Father Fabrizio there is but little chance of his 
 seeing you, but far greater probabiUty of my dis- 
 pleasing him." 1 
 
 " There will be no occasion to tell him my 
 name," said the monk, " he has been expecting me 
 for some time. Say to him that I only arrived this 
 morning from Paris." 
 
 The lay-brother then left the room, and shortly 
 afterwards returned with the Superior of "the con- 
 vent, who received the stranger with every mark of 
 profound respect. He then invited him to accom 
 pany him to a private room which had been 
 prepared for him, much to the surprise of the 
 lay-brother, who looked upon the Superior of his 
 convent with great reverence, and he was naturally 
 somewhat puzzled to know who the individual 
 could be who was received with so much respect, 
 justly concluding that he must be a man of the 
 highest importance. Nor was he mistaken in his 
 conclusion. The stranger was none other than 
 the celebrated Oriz, than whom, though his title 
 was no higher than that of a Doctor in theology, 
 few of the College of Cardinals possessed greater 
 power. This man had been appointed by Henry 11. 
 of France, his " Inquisitor of the Faith." When 
 first he commenced his duties he exercised them 
 for some time with considerable moderation. Tra- 
 dition says of him, that he was then of a rather 
 jovial, good-natured disposition. If true, all traces 
 of it were completely lost at the time of our nar- 
 rative. It is even recorded of him* that in the 
 year 1534, when he was sent as Inquisitor ; to 
 Sancerre to search for heretics, the inhabitants, 
 aware of his fondness for good cheer, treated him 
 with so much hospitality, that although Protes- 
 tantism had really taken great hold in the neigh- 
 bourhood, he reported them to the Lieutenant 
 Criminel as a very good sort of people. He was 
 then, as Dr. M'Crie says, but young, and had not 
 yet tasted blood.f Afterwards spurred on by the 
 Court of Rome, he carried on his labours with 
 so much rigour, that he became at last one of 
 the most cruel persecutors of the Protestants 
 that ever disgraced the Romish Church in France. 
 To such an extent did he carry his spirit of per- 
 secution, that although named by his Majesty 
 Henry II. as Grand Inquisitor of France, the 
 French papists were disgusted at his conduct, and 
 insisted on his quitting the kingdom. For some 
 time the King refused to listen to his people, but 
 at last finding the discontent at the presence of 
 
 • I^ezc, " Hist, des fi^rlises Kef. de France." 
 t " Ketbrmation in Italy." 
 
36 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 the Inquisitor becoming prevalent in all classes of 
 society, his Majesty determined to send Oriz on a 
 mission to Ferrara for the double purpose of bring- 
 ing the Duchess Ren^e back to the Romish faith, 
 and by his superior energy and inflexible cruelty, 
 to exterminate heresy in the strongest hold it had 
 hitheito obtained in Italy. 
 
 As soon as they were alone, the Superior, in the 
 same tone of marked respect which he had shown 
 on first meeting the stranger, said — 
 
 " I hardly expected you so soon. Reverend 
 Father. You must excuse me if I was. not pre- 
 pared to receive you." 
 
 " Make no apologies," said Oriz. " I have arrived- 
 two days earlier than I taught you to expect from the 
 letter I forwarded to you ; but understanding that my 
 presence was much needed in Ferrara, I have made 
 greater haste than I otherwise should have done." 
 
 " That your presence is much needed in Ferrara 
 is perfectly true. It gives me also much pleasure 
 to be able to resign the direction of our Holy Office 
 into hands far more experienced than my own. 
 But before we touch on that subject," tae Superior 
 contmued, " allow me to order some refresh- 
 ment, as you must doubtless be fatigued with your 
 journey." 
 
 " Not at all," said Oriz. " I reached Mal-Albergo 
 yesterday evening, where I remained for the night, ' 
 and crossed the river this morning. The letter I 
 received from you in Milan, tells me that for some 
 time past little progress has been made in Ferrara ' 
 in exteniiinating the pestilential heresy which afflicts 
 it : is that the case ?" j 
 
 " It is," said the Superior. " And yet this has 
 arisen from no want of zeal on my part or the part 
 of those connected with me." 
 
 " From what cause does it arise then ?" inquired 
 Oriz. 
 
 " From the power her Highness still exercises 
 over the Duke. Again, you must not imagine the 
 inaction which has lately been observed has been 
 without other cause. Having received intelligence 
 of your expected arrival, I thought it better to let 
 things remain in abeyance till I saw you, content- 
 ing myself with seeing that heresy made no head. 
 My principal reason for this inaction was, that her 
 Highness is still indisposed to attend mass, and 
 exerts herself for the protection of the heretics, I 
 purposed to allow her to carry out her designs with 
 comparative impunity, judging that by the time of 
 your arrival we should be better able to point out 
 to you those who are the principal supporters of 
 the errors of Calvinism in our city, and thus place i 
 in -your hands information which it would, have 
 been difficult to obtain had we carried on our 
 efforts with the same unflinching severity we did 
 some months since." 
 
 "And have you succeeded?" 
 
 " I may say we have, and to an extent we had 
 hardly calculated .on. We have discovered, and in 
 fact intercepted, many letters written from her 
 Highness to the arch-heretic Calvin, and thereby 
 we ha:ve become acquainte;d with many names of 
 
 individuals tainted with heresy which we should not 
 otherwise have known." 
 
 " Have you placed these intercepted letters 
 before his Highness?" inquired Oriz. 
 
 " I have not," said the Superior. " I thought it 
 better to wait your arrival ; the more so as I will 
 candidly admit that the Duke, although a true son 
 of the Church in all spiritual matters, and of a 
 fidelity not to be suspected, receives with con- 
 siderable coolness, if not anger, any complaints of 
 the conduct of the Duchess. But you, with your 
 superigr authority, will, I trust, be able to remove 
 that impediment. But I have some most pleasiig 
 intelligence to give you. The renegade Capuchin, 
 Bernardino Ochino, is at this moment in Ferrara." 
 
 " Has he been arrested ?" asked Oriz. 
 
 " He has not." 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 " Because," said the Superior, " he is residing in 
 the Palace of San Francesco, under the protection 
 of the Duchess ; but we have him there as securely 
 as if he were at this moment locked up and in 
 chains in one of our own dungeons. Our agents 
 watch the Palace night and day. Not an indi- 
 vidual can enter or leave it without our knowledge, 
 although no one residing in the Palace or those 
 entering it imagine they are watched. So com- 
 plete is the system adopted, that it V'ould be im- 
 possible for a child even to leave it without our 
 being informed." 
 
 " Have you the names of those who attended 
 the prayer-meeting there the other evening?" said 
 Oriz. 
 
 " I have," said the Superior, evidently much 
 surprised that Oriz was aware of the prayer-meeting 
 having taken place. Possibly Oriz noticed the ex- 
 pression of . surprise on the countenance of. the 
 Superior, but he made no remark. 
 
 " And you are certain you may depend upon the 
 fidelity of those of your agents employed within ^ 
 the Palace?" 
 
 " I am as certain of their fidelity as I am of fiy 
 own, and all, of any ability, have been removed 
 from the suite of the Duchess. Those who now 
 remain with her are principally aged women, whose 
 intellects are none of the brightest, with the excep- 
 tion of a young girl, the daughter of Biagio Rosetti, 
 the senior Judge, who is also tainted with heresy, 
 and who, like her father, might be convicted of 
 the crime to-morrow should proceedings be taken 
 out against her. We have even gone so far as to 
 obtain the removal of the tutor of the young 
 Princesses, the celebrated Francesco Porta Da 
 Creta, from merely the suspicion that he had im- 
 bibed heretical notions, and have obtained the 
 appointment for the Jesuit, Father Pelletario." 
 
 "Why is that young girl allowed to remain?" 
 asked Oriz. ■ 
 
 " Partly because we did not wish to have the a^ 
 pearance of none but aged or infirin women beii^ 
 in attendance-on the Duchess, who, I may mention, 
 has resolutely refused to allow any one who attends 
 mass,., or the confessional, to be about her persoD) 
 
THE STRITGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 37 
 
 and partly because the two princesses have con- 
 ceived a strong affection for the girl. I trust you 
 see no objection to the arrangement?" 
 
 " None whatever," said Oriz. " If the two 
 Princesses are well instructed in their religious 
 duties, as I have no doubt they are, there will be 
 little danger to their souls, while we may hope — in 
 time at least — that their double interest may act on 
 the mind of the heretic girl. But now tell me if 
 the Duke and Father Pelletario have returned to 
 Ferrara?" 
 
 " Not that I know of," said the Superior ; " but 
 I hardly think it probable." 
 
 "So far to the contrary," said Oriz, " that it is 
 more than probable they are at this moment 
 arrived. When I reached Mal-Albergo yesterday 
 evening, and found that the Duke was at Belri- 
 guardo, my first care was immediately to despatch a 
 messenger to him, humbly requesting that he would 
 grant me an interview, and that on the receipt of 
 his answer I should make preparations to wait on 
 him without delay." 
 
 " I should think then,'' said the Superior, " that 
 his Highness will await your arrival at Belriguardo." 
 
 " I hardly agree with you," said Griz coolly. " I 
 think it more probable that his Highness will have 
 left Belriguardo this morning to join me in Ferrara, 
 and the distance is not so far but that he may 
 have already arrived. You will greatly oblige me 
 by sending a messenger to the Este Palace to 
 know whether it is the case." 
 
 The Superior now left the room and despatched 
 a messenger to the Este Palace to inquire if the 
 Duke had arrived from Belriguardo, but before he 
 had returned with an answer, an officer of the 
 Duke reached the convent with a message that his 
 Highness impatiently awaited in the Este Palace 
 an interview with the Reverend Father Oriz. 
 
 Oriz, with the alacrity which usually distinguished 
 him in all matters he had undertaken, delayed not 
 a moment, but returned with the messenger. On 
 entering the audience room in the Este Palace, he 
 found the Duke in conversation with the Father 
 Pelletario, who had also returned to Ferrara with 
 him. The reception which Duke Ercole gave to 
 the Inquisitor was one of mingled friendship and 
 respect, which Oriz on his part received in Ms 
 usual quiet and subdued manner, without the 
 slightest appearance of gratitude or pleasure at the 
 welcome the Duke had given him. The only 
 semblance of marked expression on his coun- 
 tenance was when the Duke introduced him to the 
 Father Pelletario. Then for a moment he cast on 
 the Jesuit a glance so piercing, that he seemed 
 as if determined to read the confessor's innjost 
 thoughts. The glance Pelletario cast on Oriz was 
 scarcely less characteristic. While bowing with pro- 
 found respect and humility, and with a smile of 
 pleasure at the introduction, the keen eye of the 
 Jesuit fell on that of the Inquisitor, telling him 
 that he was as perfectly able to defend himself as 
 the Inquisitor to attack, and that he feared nothing 
 whatever ;rom his i resenct. . . 
 
 " You told me in your letter, which I received 
 late last night," said the Duke, " that you were the 
 bearer of a mission of great importance from the 
 King of France. Let me ask you whether it is 
 one of such secrecy that the Reverend Father 
 Pelletario cannot be present at our interview ?" 
 
 " It would give me great joy could I have the 
 Reverend Father's advice and support for the sub- 
 ject I am about to introduce to your Highness. 
 At the same time, as my message is to you alone, I 
 hardly know whether I should be justified in the 
 respect I owe to his Majesty, in allowing a third 
 person, without his permission, to be present at 
 our interview. I am, however, fully persuaded 
 that had his Majesty been aware that that person 
 was the father confessor to your Highness, he 
 would not have made the slightest objection." 
 
 The Jesuit Father, on hearing the answer Oriz 
 made to the Duke, immediately acquiesced in the 
 propriety of there being no third person present at 
 the interview, and, bowing respectfully to the Duke 
 and the Inquisitor, left the apartment. 
 
 As soon as they were alone Oriz said, " I 
 sincerely trust your Highness will pardon me for 
 having undertaken the painful mission with which 
 I have been intrusted. I beg to assure your 
 Highness I would willingly have avoided it, but 
 his Majesty the King insisted so strenuously on 
 my undertaking it, that I had no alternative. First, 
 then, let me place in your hands an autograph 
 letter his Majesty has sent you, and which you will 
 find corroborates all I say to you." 
 
 The Duke opened the letter, and glanced rapidly 
 over it. 
 
 " I see," said the Duke, addressing Oriz, " that 
 in this letter his Majesty tells me that at his earnest 
 desire you have taken this journey to Ferrara, to 
 speak to me on spiritual things concerning our 
 state, and especially regarding our illustrious 
 Duchess, the Princess Rende. I will presently 
 read the letter again, and in the meantime will 
 you give me your message ?" 
 
 " Allow me, your Highness," said Oriz, drawing 
 a paper from his pocket, "to refer you to this 
 document, which has been drawn up by the express 
 order of his Majesty. In it I am requested to im- 
 plore your Highness with the utmost earnestness to 
 allow me an interview with the illustrious Princess, 
 the Duchess Rende, in the hope that I may be able 
 to extricate her from the labyrinth of those unhappy 
 opinions in which she is lost, so contrary and repug- 
 nant to our holy faith and religion, and the news 
 of which has caused deep sorrow to his Majesty the 
 King of France. At this interview I am also in- 
 structed to impress upon her the great favours God 
 has granted her, arid amongst others, that of being 
 the issue of the present blood of the most Christian 
 house of France, where no monster has ever existed ; 
 and also to explain that, should she remain in her 
 stubbornness and pertinacity, it would displease the 
 King as. much as anything in the world, and would 
 cause him entirely to forget the love he, as hei' 
 nephew, bears her, he hating nothing with a greater 
 
38 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 hate than all those of the reprot>ate sects, whose 
 mortal enemy he is." 
 
 " That you will have my full permission for the 
 interview with the Duchess you may be perfectly 
 assured, but at the same time, Dr. Matteo Oriz, 
 you must not hold me answerable if she refuse to 
 receive you. Excellent as a wife, admirable as a 
 mother and in all other respects, her Highness is 
 inflexible on any subject connected with her reli- 
 gion : and I profoundly regret to say that the hatred 
 the most Christian King bears the reprobated sects, 
 is not greater than that in which her Highness 
 holds many of the most eminent men of our holy 
 religion, especially those who are members of the 
 
 monastic orders. Should her Highness, therefore, 
 object to receive you, do not consider me in any 
 way guilty in the matter." 
 
 " It would be gross presumption on the part of 
 so humble an individual as myself to judge your 
 Highness in this matter," said Dr. Oriz; "nor 
 should I venture to ask you to allow me to make a 
 remark on it were I not commanded to do so by 
 his Majesty, who takes the greatest interest in the 
 soul of his dear aunt, the Duchess Renee." 
 
 " Make any remarks you please ; I will willingly 
 hear them," said the Duke. 
 
 " His Majesty goes on to say," continued Dr. 
 Oriz, " that if after such remonstrance and per- 
 
 Pagejs. 
 
 suasion as I shall be able to make to her, so that 
 she may know the truth, and the difference there is 
 between light and darkness, she still remains un- 
 converted, stronger means should be employed." 
 
 " I do not understand you," said the Duke, with 
 something of surprise in his tone, not uiimingled 
 with severity. ' 
 
 " That I am instructed by his Majesty," said 
 Oriz, disregarding the Duke's tone of displeasure, 
 " that in case I should be unable by the gentle means 
 I shall use to gain her, and reclaim the Duchess, I 
 am . But pardon me if I here read my instruc- 
 tions verbally, that your Highness may not think I 
 exceed them." Then reading, he continued — " ' He 
 shall take counsel with the said Lord Duke as to 
 
 what can possibly be done in the way of rigour and 
 severity to bring her to reason.'" 
 
 "The language is somewhat of the strongest," 
 said Ercole sternly ; " and I am rather surprised to 
 find that the King of France should write in such a 
 manner respecting an illustrious Princess of his own 
 house." 
 
 " His Majesty goes still further," said Dr. Oriz, 
 continuing in the same respectful impassive tone ; 
 "he says that in case rigour or severity fail to 
 bring her to reason, then his Majesty wills and 
 approves, and indeed exhorts your Highness very 
 earnestly, that you would cause the Princess Rende 
 to be put into a place secluded from society and 
 conversation, taking away her children, and the 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 39 
 
 whole of her family and court, entirely irrespective 
 of whatever nation they may be. But," continued 
 Oriz, " the instructions of his Majesty to me go 
 still further with respect to the punishment t& he 
 inflicted on the noble lady should she contimoein the 
 errors of her ways. As, however, the subject seems 
 painful to your Highness, I will not allude further 
 to it than to say, that his- Mafesty trusts your High- 
 ness will punish with nnflinching severity, even to 
 the death, all those who shall have assisted or 
 abetted her Highness, as well as take all possible 
 means of clearing from your dominions the heretics 
 which at present infest them." 
 
 For some moments the Duke remained silent 
 and thoughtful, as if undecided what answer he 
 would give to the chief Inquisitor. Ercole had a 
 difficult task before him. He was conscientiously 
 grieved at what he considered the erroneous re- 
 ligious opinions entertained by the Duchess. For 
 political reasons he was most anxious to continue 
 in good favour with the Court of P'rance. But 
 above all it was his chief interest at that mo- 
 ment to keep on good terms with the Court of 
 Rome, in order to secure the succession of the 
 Duchy to his own children, instead of allowing it 
 to revert — ^as it probably would after the death of 
 his successor — into the States of the Church. Still, 
 the natural proud feelings of a Prince of the house 
 o^ Este revolted at the idea of any foreign powers, 
 even those as influential as the King of the French, 
 or the Pope of Rome, interfering with the domestic 
 affairs of his principality. And this feeling was 
 further increased by the natural sentiment of man- 
 hood which prompted him to stand forward and 
 
 defend hi* wife from the powerful conspiracy which 
 he cooW easily perceive had been formed against 
 her, much as he objected to the principles of the 
 religion she had adopted. The Inquisitor, who 
 stood motionless, with his eyes fixed on the ground, 
 perfectly understood the agitation at that moment 
 swaying the mind of the Duke, but rightly judging 
 that in the end his Highness would agree to the 
 request of the King of France, he said nothing. 
 
 " Dr. Matteo Oriz," said the Duke, suddenly, " I 
 submit to the request of his Majesty the King of 
 France, and you have my full permission to request 
 an interview with the Duchess. With respect to the 
 stronger portions of your instructions we will talk 
 more afterwards. At present my permission is 
 limited solely to an interview with the Duchess, 
 although I think you will have some difficulty in 
 obtaining it." 
 
 " If your Highness would advise the Duchess 
 that a messenger has arrived I'lom her nephew 
 the King of France, who desires to speak with her, 
 and that it is your especial wish the interview should 
 be granted, I am fiilly persuaded she will then no 
 longer hesitate." 
 
 " Probably you may be right," said the Duke, 
 after a moment's consideration. " I will do so. 
 But remember. Reverend Father, should you be 
 displeased with your interview, no disrespect shall 
 be shown the Duchess, nor shall any steps be taken 
 against her or any person of her household without 
 my especial authority." 
 
 " Your Highness may be fully persuaded I will 
 cany out your orders," said Oriz. 
 
40 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. — AN AUDIENCE. 
 
 N the after- 
 noon of the 
 same day Oriz 
 proceeded to 
 the Palace of 
 SanFrancisco, 
 and had his 
 audience with 
 the Duchess. 
 When he ar- 
 rived at the 
 Palace he was 
 conducted to 
 her private 
 room in which 
 she was ac- 
 customed to 
 hold her con- 
 fidential audi- 
 ences. When 
 he entered 
 he found her 
 Highness at- 
 tended by two ladies, one of whom was Donna 
 Ponte, already alluded to, and the other Teresa 
 Rosetti. Till the Inquisitor was ushered into the 
 presence, Ren^e had no idea that the messenger for 
 whom her husband had demanded an interview was 
 a monk. A slight flush of displeasure crossed her 
 face when she saw him, but the moment after she 
 controlled it. On advancing gravely to within a 
 few yards of the chair on which the Duchess was 
 seated, Oriz waited for her to address him. 
 
 " His Highness the Duke has this morning sent 
 me a message," said Renee, " that you have arrived 
 11 om the Court of my nephew the King of France, 
 and that you were intrusted with a special message 
 for me. Did I correctly understand him ?" 
 
 " You did, your Highness," said Oriz. " I am 
 entrusted with a message from your Royal nephew ; 
 but as it concerns yourself alone, might I respect- 
 fully submit that no others should be present?" 
 
 " Before I answer you," said Rende, " tell me 
 whether your mission treats on political, family, or 
 spiritual subjects, for from your dress I suspect it 
 must be the latter." 
 
 " Your Highness has arrived at a right con- 
 clusion," said the monk. " My mission, beyond 
 some strong sentences of affection on the part of 
 your Royal nephew, relates only to the welfare of 
 your soul." 
 
 "Then, sir," said Ren^e sternly, "know that, 
 as I have long since rejected both the mass 
 and the confession, I now refuse to grant you, a 
 monk, a private interview on any subject of the 
 kind. These ladies have my fullest confidence, 
 and you may, if you please, speak with the most 
 unreserved candour. On any spiritual matter I 
 have nothing to hide trom them." 
 
 " I much regret the decision your Highness has 
 come to," said Oriz. " May I hope you will recon- 
 sider it?" 
 
 " Certainly not, sir," said Rende. " Proceed 
 with your message or quit the room. I will not be 
 dictated to by any one, priest or noble." 
 
 " I will obey your Highness," said Oriz. " At 
 the same time pardon me if I say that you place 
 me in a. very painful position. It would be painful 
 to me under any circumstances, but in the presence 
 of others it will be doubly so." 
 
 " Proceed, sir," said Renee somewhat impatiently. 
 
 " My message from his Majesty, then." said Oriz, 
 " is shortly as follows : that he has heard with pro- 
 found sorrow that you have refused to attend the 
 mass, and abstained from the confessional — that 
 you have set at nought the different rites and cere- 
 monies of our Church, such as eating meat on 
 prohibited days, and setting bad examples to those 
 around you, besides other grave . faults. He sin- 
 cerely hopes that you will kindly listen to the argu- 
 ments I shall bring forward to show you that you 
 are in error." 
 
 " Proceed with them, sir," said Ren^e. 
 
 "Your Highness must perceive that it will be 
 inconvenient at the present moment to attack the 
 errors into which you have fallen ; and to prove their 
 falseness at a single interview would be difficult to 
 me and fatiguing to your Highness. I trust that on 
 another occasion you will allow me to go systemati- 
 cally into the subject." 
 
 '• Why not proceed with them at once ?" said 
 Rende. " At any rate make your beginning." 
 
 " Still I must crave the indulgence of your High- 
 ness to grant me another opportunity." 
 
 " And if I refuse !" said Ren^e. 
 
 " My instructions with your Highness go no 
 further," said Oriz. "All the rest relates to the 
 Duke himself." 
 
 "And might I ask you," said Ren^e, "what 
 those instructions are, or are they to be kept a 
 secret from me, his wife ?" 
 
 " Unfortunately," said Oriz, " they are not to be 
 kppt a secret from your Highness. On the contrary, 
 they are to be most explicitly told to you. At the 
 same time, I would prefer the Duke, your husband, 
 explaining them to you." 
 
 " The Duke, my husband, explain them to me !" 
 said Rende angrily, grasping the arm of her chair. 
 " And why can you not explain them to me your- 
 self? Do not stand on any punctilio. I have 
 received offence from those wearing your habit so 
 often, that I am now able to bear any fresh one 
 with composure. Say, sir, what it is you mean, ' 
 for I perceive it is already on the tip of your 
 tongue." 
 
 " If I must obey your Highness," said Oriz, 
 " my instructions go to the extent of requesting the 
 Duke to place such restraint on you as shall pre- 
 clude the possibility of your doing injury to the 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 41 
 
 souls of others ; and not to grant you your liberty 
 again till you have consented to attend the mass 
 and the confessional." 
 
 " In other words, sir, I suppose I am to be de- 
 prived of the society of those around me. You 
 Inquisitors — for I can easily perceive you are 
 one — appear determined to leave standing no 
 opponent whom you can overthrow. One would 
 have imagined the bodyguard I have, two of whom 
 you see standing by my chair," — pointing to Donna 
 Ponte and Teresa — " were not of such a dangerous 
 kind as to excite your apprehension. But tell 
 me, suppose that even then I refused to hear you, 
 Vi^hat would be the result?" 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness, if I do not answer 
 that question." 
 
 " Nay, speak, man ; -why hesitate ? Tell the 
 whole truth. I repeat again, if 1 refuse to attend 
 the mass and the confessional, what then?" 
 
 " Once more I trust your Highness will excuse 
 me," said Oriz. 
 
 "What, ashamed of your mission?" said Renee, 
 sarcastically, "and you an Inquisitor!" 
 
 " I am not ashamed of my mission," said Oriz, 
 now drawing himself up, and showing for the 
 first time during their interview that his coun- 
 tenance was capable of another than the placid, 
 resigned look it had hitherto worn. " I am not 
 ashamed of my mission ; I glory in it. Know 
 then the advice of his Majesty the King of France 
 to the illustrious Duke, your husband is, that 
 should you continue still in your errors and im- 
 penitent, to apply those means for your conversion 
 which have succeeded so well with thousands of 
 others." 
 
 " And what may they be ?" said Ren^e. 
 
 " The torture," replied Oriz emphatically. 
 
 " The torture !" said Rende, rising from her seat, 
 with an intense expression of indignation on her 
 countenance. " The torture ! And that word ap- 
 plied to me, a Princess of France !" Then, advanc- 
 ing towards Oriz, she said, " It is false ; my nephew 
 never intrusted you with such a commission ; he 
 dare not do it. The whole manhood of the French 
 nation would rise up with indignation were it known 
 that he suggested a thing of the kind. And you 
 would advise my husband, the Duke, to apply the 
 torture to me, his wife? Do you think for one 
 moment that he would entertain the suggestion, at- 
 tached though he is to the Church of Rome ? Have 
 not those of your creed already had good proof of 
 the temper of the Princes of the House of Este 
 when unjust interference was attempted to be used 
 in the affairs of their dominions ? Ah ! that I wore a 
 beard, and that you were not a priest," said Rende, 
 " licensed to insult a woman without danger. I 
 would then show you what would be the result of 
 offering Rende of France an insult of the kind. 
 Try the experiment on my husband, the Duke, if 
 you please. But no, though you would insult his 
 wife, you would not have the courage to propose it 
 to him." 
 
 " Not only have I the courage to propose it to 
 
 him," said Oriz, who had now completely resumed 
 his ordinary tranquil tone, " but I hold it to be an 
 especial portion of my duty, not only to your 
 nephew, but to that great cause whose humble 
 instrument I am, to impress its necessity on the 
 Duke ; and that the torture be continued till your 
 Highness has attended mass, confessed, and done 
 penance for your offences." 
 
 For some moments Ren^e continued to gaze on 
 the monk with intense indignation. Her anger, 
 however, seemed not to have the slightest effect on 
 Oriz, who stood before her cold and impassive as a 
 statue. 
 
 " Once more, before I leave," he said to her, 
 " let me implore your Highness to consent to listen 
 to my arguments ; for it will pain me greatly to in- 
 form the Duke, your husband, of your disobedience 
 to his wishes." 
 
 Ren^e looked calmly at him for a moment, and 
 then said — 
 
 " Not only do I refuse to hear you, but I insist 
 that our interview now cease, and that you never 
 seek to enter my presence again ; for no matter 
 on whose part you come, I will not receive you. 
 Of what servxe can any argument on your part 
 be when the opinions of both of us are irrevocably 
 fixed on articles of faith as wide as the poles 
 asunder ? You hold that the mass is a sacrifice 
 appointed by God for the redemption and salvation 
 of the living and dead. I hold such a doctrine to 
 be an unbearable blasphemy, in which the passion 
 of Jesus Christ is quite overthrown and set aside, 
 as if it were of no effect whatever. I hold that 
 our Blessed Saviour, in offering Himself up, pre- 
 sented Himself an eternal sacrifice by which our 
 iniquities have been purged and cleansed, and our- 
 selves received into the grace of the Father, and 
 made partakers of the heavenly inheritance. I 
 know you will tell me that you make the same 
 sacrifice which Jesus has made, but I hold such an 
 argument to be blasphemous, for that sacrifice can 
 be made by no one else. You cannot fail to see 
 that one of two things must take place : either I 
 must acknowledge as true what I at present con- 
 sider the horrible blasphemy of the mass, or, if I 
 admit your arguments, I must trample under foot 
 the cross of Christ. But the crowning desecration 
 which I should commit would be the idolatry I 
 should perpetrate by adoring a creature instead of 
 God, which is a thing I hold to be altogether inex- 
 cusable, while you hold that it is all essential to 
 salvation. Our opinions being so widely diiierent, 
 it would be useless to argue further on them. You 
 are not likely to change yours, and certainly there 
 is not the remotest probability of my changing 
 mine." 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness, if I submit that 
 the arguments you have used are not yours," 
 said Oriz, " and the opmions which at present 
 misguide you are not the result of your own 
 reflections. You have accepted them from diit 
 arch heretic, John Calvin — a man who, not 
 content with reviling our holy mysteries, and 
 
42 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 causing schism in our holy Church by argument 
 and open means, attempts even to detract by per- 
 sonal slander from the character of those good 
 and holy men who would help you in the right 
 way. Excuse me, your Highness,'" he continued, 
 seeing the indignation rise in Rente's face, " but 
 please to recall to your memory a certain letter 
 that John Calvin wrote to you when he first began 
 to tamper with your faith. Before commencing 
 his arguments, he tries to neutralise the faith you 
 had in, your chaplain by speaking of him in the 
 most disrespectful manner, and advising you not 
 to give credence to his utterances." 
 
 Astonishment for a moment took the place of 
 indignation on Rente's countenance; for it was 
 quite true that in one of the first letters Calvin had 
 sent to her on the mass, he had strenuously advise* 
 her to give no ear to the doctrines preached by 
 her chaplain. 
 
 " I know not, sir, how you became possessed of 
 the knowledge that I received such a letter ; but 
 at the same time I admit that that good and pious 
 man did write me a letter requesting me to beware 
 of the doctrines and teachings of my then chap- 
 lain, and grateful, indeed, was I to him for the 
 caution ; for I afterwards discovered that his know- 
 ledge of the man was correct. Have I, then, 
 such spies about me," she continued, her indigna- 
 tion again getting the better of her astonishment, 
 "that even my private letters are brought under 
 the notice of the Inquisition ? That your duplicity 
 was great and skilful, I knew; but I hardly con- 
 sidered it was carried to such a point. But our 
 interview must now terminate. Use what influence 
 you please with the Duke, my husband. Persuade 
 him, if you can, to allow the torture to be applied 
 to me " — Rende here stopped short for a moment, 
 indignation impeding the current of her words ; 
 but she continued at last, "the torture for me, 
 Rende of France!" 
 
 " Yes, madam," said Oriz, quietly, " if all other 
 means fail. If prayers, entreaties, and arguments 
 are of no avail, better a thousand to one that your 
 body should suffer than that your soul should perish 
 eternally. Nay, do not think," he continued, 
 noticing the violent indignation which agitated 
 Ren^e, " that it would be any indignity in such a 
 cause to offer the torture to a princess of the 
 house of France. High as your dignity may be, it 
 has already been used, and with good effect, to 
 pringesses fully your equal. The Queen Juana of 
 Spain has already suffered the torture of the cord, 
 and with the happiest results. Her Majesty, who 
 had lor years refused to attend the mass and confess, 
 after her punishment, to the great joy of her son, 
 his Majesty Charles V., and the edification of all 
 true believers, no longer offered any objection, but 
 became a willing child of the Church. And doubt- 
 less your Highness, if we are pushed "to that terrible 
 necessity, will follow her example." 
 
 " You do not know me," said Rende, " if you 
 think that any torture or any punishment you can 
 inflict on me would make me desert those opinions 
 
 which I have conscientiously adopted. Once more, 
 I believe the celebration of the mass to be nothing 
 better than execrable idolatry. I will part with my 
 life itself sooner than admit the contrary. If you 
 are honest you will take that answer to the Duke 
 my husband. Ponte," she continued, turning to 
 her lady-in-waiting, "and Teresa, my child, bear 
 witness to my determination. No power on earth 
 shall induce me again to become a member of the 
 Church of Rome ! Now, sir, leave me ; and, re- 
 member, I shall give orders to my servants never 
 to admit you again into my presence." 
 
 Oriz, without changing a feature of his counte- 
 nance, which remained perfectly impassive and 
 impenetrable, bowed respectfully to her Highness, 
 and the audience terminated. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. AN ALARM. 
 
 Although the indignation raised in Rente's 
 breast by the audacity of Oriz's language had sup- 
 ported her during their interview, it vanished 
 shortly after he had quitted the room. For some 
 time after he had left she remained seated on her 
 chair of state, which had been placed on a slightly 
 elevated dais, her features wearing a stem, dignified 
 expression, as if she could hardly realise the fact 
 that the Arch-inquisitor was no longer standing 
 before her with calm determination stamped on his 
 face. By degrees Rente's rigidity of feature began 
 to soften, and she slowly turned her face to 
 
 I Madonna Ponte (who had stood on one side of 
 her, and Teresa on the other) as if to seek for con- 
 solation and support: but she found none. The 
 
 I worthy Italian Swiss had been so shocked at the 
 behaviour of the Inquisitor, that she had not yet 
 been able to recover her self-possession, and she 
 returned the gaze of the Duchess with one of 
 mingled bewilderment and alarm. Rende then 
 mechanically turned toward Teresa, and found that 
 the tears were chasing each other rapidly down the 
 poor girl's face. The sight of Teresa's tears had the 
 effect of calling forth those of the Duchess. All 
 the majesty of demeanour which she had hitherto 
 maintained, and which, on occasion, she could 
 assume with great effect, — although ordinarily she 
 was simple and unpretending in the extreme, — now 
 vanished, and, covering her face with her hands, 
 and bending forward in the chair, she burst into 
 an uncontrollable fit of weeping. 
 
 Astonished at the violent outburst of grief of the 
 Duchess, both Madonna Ponte and Ter.esa at- 
 tempted to console her, though with littie good 
 effect. Ponte, who had now fully regained her 
 self-possession, endeavoured to show R-ende the 
 necessity for calming her feeUngs, so that with her 
 habitual wisdom she might be able to guide, as 
 well as protect, those who without her aid would 
 be but as sheep led to the slaughter. 
 
 " Do not talk to me in that tone, Ponte," said 
 Ren^e, at last, " for in my present misery it seems 
 almost like mockery. What power have I?" she 
 continued, raising her head and looking almost 
 angrily at her. " What support can I give to any 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 43 
 
 when I am myself as weak and powerless as a 
 bruised reed ?" 
 
 " Still," said Teresa, " your Highness has wisdom, 
 and, wisdom is power. Think how helpless the faith- 
 ful in Ferrara will be without your aid and advice." 
 
 " My child, once more, what power have I to 
 help them ? " said Rende, emphatically. " My 
 wisdom ! Look at me now," she continued, turn- 
 ing her face, covered with tears, towards the young 
 girl ; " look at me, and then say whether, crushed 
 as my poor spirit is by the heavy sorrow which 
 oppi esses it, I have the wisdom to guide others." 
 
 " Pardon me if I remind your Highness," said 
 Teresa, " that there is a Power perfectly able to 
 give you wisdom, and to point out the way to guide 
 others with a certainty that all the princes of this 
 world would in vain attempt to overthrow or 
 opppse." 
 
 "True, my child. To that Power let us all 
 humbly confide ourselves, and pray to be released 
 out of the hands of the persecutor. But, should 
 it not appear right in the eyes of the Almighty 
 to place extraordinary power in my hands, of what 
 use can I be in this matter ? I am a woman, and 
 at this moment as weak as either of you — ^possibly 
 more so. All the power I once possessed was de- 
 rived from others, who then supported and guided 
 me. And where are they now? My illustrious 
 relative and friend. King Francis, is dead, and 
 my nephew, the present King of France, not only 
 deserts me, but has sent the Inquisitor Oriz to 
 persecute me and my Protestant subjects. The 
 Duke, my husband, not CM^y permits him to address 
 me, but even to threaten me with imprisonment 
 and the rack if I do not personally turn a traitress 
 to my God— if I attempt to shelter or protect any 
 of the scattered sheep of Christ's fold in this city, 
 who are now without a shepherd." 
 
 " But if your Highness has no longer the sword 
 of the mighty to protect you in your present diffi- 
 culty, you have still your wisdom left to guide you, 
 which, with aid from the Almighty, may yet be 
 sufficient." 
 
 " My wisdom, Teresa, is on a par with my 
 power," said the Duchess. " I never possessed 
 much, and, as I said before, the little I once had 
 sorrow hath stamped out of me." 
 
 " Your Highness has already guided us in many 
 difficulties and dangers, and may do so again," said 
 Madonna Ponte. 
 
 " Never again, Ponte," said the Duchess. " What 
 you are pleased to call my wisdom was really the 
 wisdom of others, who had me for their mouth- 
 piece. And where are they now who inspired me 
 with that wisdom ? All those learned men in my 
 suite, who were my countrymen and Protestants, 
 have been dismissed, and I hear from them no 
 more. Even the tried friend of my childhood, 
 Madame Soubise, I have been constrained to dis- 
 miss. Where are now the men of piety, learning, 
 and probity, who a few years since made my court 
 one of the most brilliant in Europe? Where is 
 Perigrino Morata ? Thank heaven, he died before 
 
 the persecution began. Wliere are Celio Curione, 
 Bartolomio Ricci, Chilian and Jean Sinapi, Antonio 
 Flaminio, and many others on whose wisdom and 
 fidelity I could rely? Are they not all dead or 
 banished ? Fannio of Faenza, Giorgio Siculo, and 
 many others, have testified their faith in the piazza, 
 and after passing through the hands of the execu- 
 tioner, received the crown of martyrdom. Those 
 of the faithful and learned in other countries, who 
 guided me with their wise advice, and encouraged 
 me to maintain the faith and defend its professors, 
 have now ceased to correspond with me. From 
 Melancthon and Farel, who formerly addressed me 
 frequently, I now no longer hear, and letters from 
 my friend John Calvin are of very rare occurrence. 
 All on whom I relied are either dead or seem to 
 have deserted me in my trouble. Your father, 
 Teresa, is the only friend I have to guide me, and 
 he is able to give me but little aid." 
 
 " Excuse me, your Highness," said Teresa, who 
 not only bore a profound love for her father, but 
 unlimited respect for his wisdom and sagacity, " but 
 I hardly think you do my father justice. There are 
 liew more learned men in Ferrara than he is, few 
 more ardent in the Protestant cause, or more de- 
 voted to your Highness." 
 
 " All that I admit, my child," said Rende. " But 
 at the same time your father, from his position as 
 an upright judge, is impeded from offering me all 
 the support he might do, lest he should put himself 
 in opposition to the laws he is bound to administer 
 with justice." 
 
 Rende now rose from her chair, and for some 
 moments paced the room to and fro in deep afflic- 
 tion, her attendants the while maintaining an abso- 
 lute silence. Presently she stopped, and wiping 
 the tears from her eyes, said : — 
 
 " But this is not the time for me to give way 
 without a struggle while I have one under my roof 
 who has confided himself to me for protection, nor 
 shall he fail to receive it as long as I can lift a 
 finger or exercise a thought in his defence. One 
 thing is certain, he must abide with us no longer 
 than we can insure his escape with safety. I think 
 you told me, Teresa, that your father had already 
 taken steps for him to leave Ferrara ? " 
 
 " He has, your Highness ; but I am not certain 
 whether they are all completely determined on, 
 although I believe they are." 
 
 "At any rate," said the Duchess, "our better 
 plan will be to talk the matter coolly over withhim, 
 so that we may hear what his wishes are on the 
 subject, and, as far as they are consistent with 
 his safety, carry them out. It is now more than 
 ever imperative that his residence here should be 
 kept a secret from all. To avoid any accident, 
 you had better go, Teresa, to the apartments of the 
 Princesses, and tell them 1 will excuse their attend- 
 ance this afternoon; and you, Ponte, go to the 
 apartments of the Pastor Ochino, and inform him I 
 much wish to speak to him ; and we shall then at 
 our leisure be able to talk over his position with 
 him. When you return we will meet in my private 
 
44 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 sitting-room, where we can converse together with- 
 out fear of being interrupted." 
 
 Teresa now left the room and proceeded to the 
 apartments of the Princesses. On entering she 
 found them in company with Sister Laura the 
 nun, Madonna Bonifazio, and the Jesuit Pelletario. 
 The Princesses no sooner saw their young friend 
 than they rose from their chairs to meet her, and 
 kissed her affectionately. Perceiving from the red- 
 ness of her eyes that she had been weeping, the 
 Princess Lucrezia asked her whether anything had 
 occurred to make her unhappy. Teresa replied 
 somewhat evasively that she felt very low-spirited, 
 but she hoped it would soon pass off. , The two 
 Princesses looked at each other as if they were 
 hardly satisfied with Teresa's answer, but they made; 
 no further remark on the Subject. Sister Laura ana 
 Madonna Bonifazio a'so advanced to meet her, and 
 received her in a most friendly manner, while the 
 Jesuit spoke to her with great blandness and cour- 
 tesy, not unmixed with kindness in his tone. 
 
 " I suppose you have come," said the Princess 
 Eleanora to her, " to tell us that her Highness is 
 ready to receive us?" 
 
 " Pardon me," said- Teresa, " her Highness, on 
 the contrary, has requested me to tell you that as 
 she does not feel in good spirits this afternoon, nor 
 altogether in good health, she will dispense with 
 your visit. At the same time, she requests me to 
 convey to you the assurance of the warm love she 
 bears you, and her regret at not being able to re- 
 ceive you." 
 
 An expression >of astonishment was now visible 
 on the faces of the Princesses, as well as on those 
 of Madonna Bonifazio and the nun, and they looked 
 at one another in an inquiring manner, as if con- 
 vinced there was some other cause than the one 
 Teresa had named. Even the Jesuit Pelletario 
 seemed somewhat to have lost his habitual command ] 
 of feature, as his face now assumed an expression 
 of sorrow when he heard the Duchess was indis- 
 posed, mingled with a thoughtfulness which showed 
 he understood there was something concealed, and 
 he was reflecting deeply what it might be. 
 
 " But, Teresa," said the Princess Eleanora, " have 
 you told us the whole truth ? Surely her Highness 
 is not more unwell than you would allow us to 
 imagine? These are not times, with the plague 
 already appearing in Ferrara, for us to hear of the 
 illness of our dear mothei" without wishing to know 
 fully what ails her. You are not deceiving us, dear 
 Teresa, by way of calming our fears ?" 
 
 " No, I assure you," said Teresa. " The bodily 
 illness of her Highness is of the most trifling de- 
 scription ; in fact, it would perhaps have been better 
 for me to have said fatigue rather than illness." 
 
 " Has her Highness then left the Palace this 
 morning," said Madonna Bonifazio, "and over- 
 tatigued herself?" 
 
 " No," said Teresa, stammering ; " her Highness 
 has not left the Palace." 
 
 " Come, dear Teresa," said the Princess Lucrezia, 
 " tell us the truth." 
 
 " Well," said Teresa, now fairly at bay, " the 
 Duchess has received this morning an unexpected 
 and very long visit, and she feels somewhat 
 fatigued by it." 
 
 "A visit ! and from whom?" 
 
 It was impossible for Teresa to escape this 
 explicit question, and she replied — 
 
 " It was from a Dominican monk, sent by his 
 Majesty the King of France, on a message to her 
 Highness. He arrived in Ferrara only yesterday." 
 
 " Do you know his name?" askfed Sister Laura, 
 with much interest in her tone, 
 
 " Oriz." 
 
 "And what did he want with our mother?" said 
 the Princess Eleanora. " What message could he 
 bring her ?" 
 
 Teresa now coloured deeply, and attempted to 
 stammer out some excuse for not answering the 
 question, but this she did in so confused and 
 artificial a manner, as greatly to excite the curiosity 
 of the Princesses and their two companions. 
 Teresa, noticing their surprise, became even more 
 confused, and an awkward silence of some mo 
 ments ensued, which was broken by the Jesuit 
 Pelletario, who during the conversation between 
 Teresa and the Princesses had remained at some 
 distance, apparently absorbed in thought, though 
 marking attentively the embarrassment of the young 
 girl, and doubtless drawing his own conclusions 
 from it. 
 
 " Possibly," he said, in his blandest tones, as he 
 advanced towards the group, " it would be indiscreet 
 to ask the object of the Reverend Father's visit to 
 her Highness, even if your friend Teresa had been 
 present at it. She may very naturally consider 
 herself — and in my opinion if she does she has 
 reason on her side — hardly authorized to speak on 
 the subject without permission from her Highness. 
 I think, if you will allow me to suggest it, it would 
 ■perhaps be more discreet if we did not questioix 
 her further in the matter." 
 
 Teresa made no remark, but merely bowed as if 
 she admitted the correctness of the Jesuit's con- 
 clusion ; but notwithstanding he had relieved her 
 from a difficult position, she hardly felt grateful to 
 him, for she was but ill at ease in his presence, and 
 yet he had done nothing to excite either her sus- 
 picion or her anxiety. Although he had treated her 
 with his habitual courtesy, and had turned his eye 
 from her shortly after she had entered the room, 
 and appeared pre-occupied with his own thoughts, 
 she instinctively felt that he was paying marked 
 attention to the conversation. On the few occasions 
 when his eyes were bent upon her there was nothing 
 in their expression but kindness and courtesy, Still 
 the young girl felt that at that very moment he 
 was reading her inmost thoughts, and that too' in 
 direct opposition to her own wish. Although not 
 an idea had crossed her mind save of the most 
 ingenuous and honourable description, the certainty 
 that the suave, polished man who stood be.ore 
 her could read her with sucli perfect facility, occa-i 
 sioned in her an intol-erably painml consciousness 
 
'YOU INTEND TO DENOUNCE ME, THEN,' SAID OCHINO ' 
 
 Page 47. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 47 
 
 of her own mental inferiority. Annoyed with her- 
 self at giving way to the feeling, the poor girl 
 stammered out some excuse about the Duchess re- 
 quiring her presence, and asked pennission to leave 
 the room. Possibly this might not have been 
 granted so readily, for the curiosity of the Prin- 
 cesses wras but barely satisfied, had it not been for 
 the intervention of the Jesuit, who suggested that, 
 as her Highness the Duchess required Teresa's 
 presence, it would hardly be respectful on their part 
 to detain her, pleasing though her society might be 
 to them. A glance, this time almost of gratitude, 
 Teresa cast on the Jesuit, and then saluting the 
 Princesses and their companions, she quitted the 
 room. 
 
 A moment after Teresa had entered the private 
 apartments of the Duchess, Ochino, accompanied 
 by Madonna Ponte, followed hei. The Duchess 
 received him most graciously. She then informed 
 him in detail of the visit she had that morning re- 
 ceived from Oriz, and the conversation which had 
 passed between them. Ochino seemed greatly 
 surprised at the intelligence. 
 
 " Alas ! this is terrible news indeed for the faith- 
 ful in Ferrara/' he said. " Mercy is unknown to 
 that man, and unfortunately his cruelty is com- 
 bined with a cunning and sagacity which renders 
 it still more terrible. However, we are in the 
 hands of the Almighty, and we must submit with 
 resignation to his fiat." 
 
 " But while our lives are as naught in the 
 balance," said Rende, " yours is very precious 
 to the cause of truth ; and the first object of our 
 thoughts must be to provide for your welfare. 
 Willingly would I have asked you to remain longer 
 with us, but I can foresee as clearly as you do the 
 terrible danger we are all in. The sooner you quit 
 Ferrara the greater will be your chance of reaching 
 Venice in safety. Preparations are already in pro- 
 gress to obtain a boat by which you may drop down 
 the river in safety to Commachio, where you can 
 easily find a vessel which shall convey you to 
 Venice, unless you prefer returning across the Alps 
 to Zurich." 
 
 " I should prefer first visiting Venice, your High- 
 ness," said Ochino. " There I have friends to pro- 
 tect me, and there, as I told you before, I am cer- 
 tain of receiving rich contributions for my mission 
 in Zurich. I will obey the suggestion of your 
 Highness, and quit Ferrara as soon as I possibly 
 can, to make preparations for receiving those of our 
 faith who, I can easily perceive, will shortly be 
 obliged to leave the duchy. At the same time, if 
 your Highness will permit it, I should much like to 
 have another meeting before I quit the city, in 
 order that I may, to the best of my ability, encou- 
 rage those who may be likely to swerve from the 
 right way as soon as the persecutions, which will 
 shortly be in store for them, shall fall heavily upon 
 them." 
 
 " I would willingly oblige you," said Renee, " if 
 It were practicable, but I hardly think it will be so. 
 To-morrow night, at the latest, you must leave 
 
 Ferrara, and to collect the faithful together in my 
 private chapel this evening will, I am afraid, be 
 impossible. I have no doubt, however, that some 
 few of us will be able to assemble together, and I 
 will get Teresa to go to her father's with Madonna 
 Ponte, and ask him to enlist the services of the 
 young Swiss in collecting together what few of our 
 faith he can before the evening, though it is now so 
 late in the afternoon that I am afraid not many of 
 those who last heard you will be present at this 
 meeting." 
 
 The conversation now turned on Ochino's mis- 
 sion in Zurich, and his prospect of success. He 
 detailed to the Duchess the different arrangements 
 he had made for the reception of any fresh fugi- 
 tives who might fly there for shelter. The Duchess 
 then made many inquiries respecting different mem- 
 bers of the Protestant faith who had already fled 
 from Ferarra, and among them a certain Luigia 
 Berenetti and her son, in whom she had taken 
 great interest, supplying them with funds for theii 
 escape. Ochino did not remember their name as 
 being among those fugitives who had assembled at 
 Zurich. 
 
 "You surprise me," said Renee, "as she told 
 me, when leaving, that she intended to reside for 
 the future in Zurich. She is a woman of very 
 modest and retiring disposition, and very possibly 
 has not introduced herself to you, or she miy not 
 have arrived there till after you left. 1 much 
 regret, however, that you have not seen her, as I 
 feel gi-eat interest in her." 
 
 " 1 am by no means certain that she may not be 
 with us," said Ochino ; " for shortly before I quitted 
 Zurich several Italians joined us, and she might have 
 been among the number, though I have forgotten 
 her name. I have with me a list of all our congre- 
 gation, and if your Highness will permit me, I will 
 fetch it from my room, and I shall then be able to 
 give you more accurate information on the subject." 
 Ochino now proceeded to his own chamber, when, 
 having obtained the list, he descended the staircase, 
 and entering the corridor, he found himself face to 
 face with the Jesuit Pelletario. Recognising each 
 other, both stopped short, and for some moments 
 silent looks passed between them. Pelletario at 
 last said with much sorrow in his tone — 
 
 " I am grieved, my brother, to find you here, as it 
 places me in a most painful position, and the more 
 so from the vivid remembrance of the friendship 
 which once existed between us. Warm as that 
 was, and painful as it undoubtedly is for me to 
 take any steps against you, I cannot allow a private 
 feelirjg of my own to interfere with my duty either 
 to our holy cause oc to his Highness." 
 
 "You intend to denounce me then?" said 
 Ochino. 
 
 " Candidly I do. I have unfortunately, as you 
 yourself must admit, no alternative. To-morrow it 
 will be my painful duty to inform the Duke that 
 you are residing in the Palace. I should have done 
 so this evening, but that I understand his Highness 
 has left the castle to pass the night in either the 
 
48 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Belfiore or the Belvedere Palace, I know not which. 
 He will return, however, to the castle to-morrow. 
 I am in doubt whether it is'' not my duty at once to 
 inform the Holy Office that you are in Ferrara, and 
 I should do so without a moment's hesitation but 
 that you are the guest of her Highness ; and I am 
 not certain whether, out of respect to the Duke, I 
 ought not in the first place to put the matter into 
 his hands. Once more, belieye me I shall do so 
 with great sorrow ; but, as I said before, my per- 
 sonal feelings must not interfere with my duty." 
 So saying he courteously bowed his, head to Ochino, 
 and, without saying another word, passed on 
 towards the apartments of the Princesses. 
 
 Although the literal meaning of the words Pelle- 
 tario uttered showed but little good feeling towards 
 Ochino, there was at the same time considerable 
 kindness noticeable in his tone, as well as an 
 expression of much sympathy on. his handsome and 
 intelligent features. Not only was there a sorrow- 
 ful accent in his words, but he spoke them with 
 remarkable slowness, glancing.at Ochino the while 
 wit,h a peculiar expression, as if wishing to obtain 
 his particular attention. Moreover, on the word 
 "to-morrow" he laid a strong emphasis, as if wishing 
 to convey a meaning beyond that of the word 
 itself. After a moment's reflection, it became 
 evident to Ochino that there was more of a 
 friendly intention towards him in Pelletario's 
 address than might have been at first apparent 
 iVom the words he uttered. Altogether it seemed 
 as if he wished to give his old i'llend an opportunity 
 of making his escape that evening. At any rate, 
 Ochino understood it so, and determined, if pos- 
 sible, to profit by the suggestion. 
 
 When Ochino entered the private sitting-room 
 of the Duchess, it was easy to perceive that he 
 had some unpleasant intelligence to communicate. 
 Before the Duchess could question him on the 
 subject, he narrated to her the short interview 
 which had passed between him and the Jesuit. 
 
 At first Rende appeared-indignant that Pelletario 
 had intruded himself into the portion of the palace 
 where Ochino had met him. 
 
 "His instructions," said Renee, "were to con- 
 fine himself solely to the apartments of the Prin- 
 cesses, nor will I allow him to intrude himself 
 beyond. All the dominion now left me to rule 
 over is but one portion of this palace ; but that 
 portion shall remain inviolable as long as I have 
 the power to maintain it." 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness,'' said Ochino, " if 
 I submit that possibly in disobeying the regulation 
 which prohibited him from visiting your portion of 
 the palace, he might have been actuated to a certain 
 extent by a friendly feeling towards me. Although 
 it is perfectly true, that in the words he .uttered, 
 not one of good feeling could • be detected, yet at 
 the same time there was much kindness in his tone 
 and manner. He evidently wished, as I believe, 
 to impress upon me the necessity there was fiar 
 my escaping, if possible, this evening. Whether 
 it would be worth while lor me to attempt it is 
 
 another matter ; for, broken-spirited as I am from 
 the dangers surrounding our brethren in this city, 
 were I to follow my own impulse, I should prefer 
 staying to die with them than to escape without 
 them." 
 
 " That must not be," said Ren^e. " Your life 
 is too valuable to our cause for it to be need- 
 lessly sacrificed. But now remains the difficult 
 question — how, at so short a notice, can we 
 provide for your escape? To remairi here till 
 to-morrow will bring on you certain destruction; 
 and yet it is very doubtful whether before to- . 
 morrow evening it will be possible to make the 
 necessary preparations. Your better plan, will be 
 to remaiii with us till after nightfall, and then to 
 seek the dwelling of the Judge Biagio Rosetti. 
 Tell him the position in which you are placed, and 
 ask shelter from him till to-morrow. Do, you not 
 think that will be best, Teresa?" she continued, 
 turning to the young girl. 
 
 " I can suggest no better plan," said Teresa ; 
 " and I need hardly say that my father will receive, 
 him with open arms, and do everything in his 
 power to assist him to escape. You know where 
 my father lives ?" she continued, turning to Ochino. 
 
 " Perfectly well. I know every street in Ferrara, 
 and shall be able to find my way to his house with- 
 out the slightest difficulty. I have no doubt the 
 agents of the Inquisition will seek me here to- 
 morrow, as soon as Pelletario shall have given the 
 Duke notice that I am in Ferrara. Not a word 
 must therefore be said to lead to the place of my 
 concealment; for although I care but little for 
 myself in the matter, it may bring misfortune on 
 the head of your excellent father. Again, it is 
 more than probable he may find for me some other 
 place of concealment, as suspicion will natunally 
 turn on him when it is found that I am not in the 
 Palace." 
 
 "I have no doubt," said Teresa, "that my 
 father will ask , for the assistance of the Swiss, 
 Camille Gurdon, whom you saw here, and will 
 confide to him the means for contriving your 
 escape, as he will not only be more energetic, but 
 less likely to be suspected than my father. I feel 
 quite hopeful that, once under his care, your escape 
 will be effected with little difficulty, for he is not 
 only shrewd and cautious, but resolute and ener- 
 getic. At least, so my father thinks," she continued. 
 
 " You wdl indeed be in good hands if you in- • 
 trust yourself to him," said Renee. " And now 
 that we have so far determined on the course to be 
 pursued, let us talk of other things. Teresa, my 
 child, go to the oak chest beside my bed, and take 
 from it the small box in which I keep some of my 
 jewels, and briiig it to me." 
 
 Teresa obeyed, and going into the bed-chamber, 
 opened the lid of the heavy, carved oak chest, 
 with its ponderous lock, in which the ladies in 
 Italy in Renee's time were accustomed to keep 
 their richer dresses and valuables. From it she 
 took a sma.ll silver casket exquisitely chased by 
 Benvenuto Cellini for the late Duchess Lucrezia 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 49 
 
 Borgia, and which, on Renee's marriage with her 
 son, the reigning Duke, had been presented to 
 her by his father Alfonso, together with many of 
 the rich jewels Lucrezia had worn. 
 
 Teresa carried the casket to the Duchess, who, 
 opening the secret spring which fastened it, took 
 from it a purse containing a number of sequins and a 
 diamond armlet of great value (one of the jewels of 
 the late Duchess), and placing them in Ochino's 
 hand, she begged he would, when in Venice, exchange 
 the latter into money, and apply the proceeds as 
 well as the purse of sequins to the uses of the 
 
 mission in Zurich. Ochino received the contribu- 
 tion most thankfully, and reminded her of the text, 
 " He that hath pity upon the poor, lendeth unto 
 the Lord," and told her that without doubt her gift 
 would be repaid to her a hundred-fold. He now 
 proposed that they should spend the remainder of 
 the evening, till it was time for him to depart, in 
 prayer. Willingly the Duchess agreed to the pro- 
 position, and Teresa having been despatched to the 
 chapel for the Italian translation of the Scriptures, 
 Ochino read a portion of the New Testament. 
 Then, all kneeling down, he prayed with great fer- 
 
 Page 40. 
 
 vour, begging that the bounty and protecMon of the 
 Almightymight be bestowed, notonlyon the Duchess 
 and her suite, but on the suffering members of Christ's 
 flock, dispersed in Ferrara and throughout the 
 whole duchy ; that courage and patience might 
 be given them to support the persecutions which 
 were too probably in store for them, and enable 
 them to maintain the faith even under the tortures 
 of the rack, in the dungeons of the Inquisition, 
 or amid the flames on the Piazza; that God 
 would raise up for them wise counsellors, who 
 would be able to guide and protect them in their 
 4 
 
 adversity, and support them with his Spirit till the 
 day should arrive when truth should be made manifest 
 among them, and the sword of the persecutor drop 
 from his hand. 
 
 It was dark night when Ochino had concluded 
 his devotions. After a sorrowful leave-taking with 
 the Duchess, Teresa, carrying a small lamp in her 
 hand, conducted him stealthily down-stairs to a 
 private door of the Palace, and, having ascertained 
 that no loiterers were in sight, bade him farewell. 
 
 Ochino bent his steps towards the dwelling of 
 the Judge. 
 
50 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER X. THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 GM an early 
 hour the next 
 morning all 
 was stir and 
 animation in 
 the convent 
 of the Corpus 
 Domini. In 
 consequence 
 of Rente's 
 frank admis- 
 sion to Oriz, 
 that she had 
 adopted the 
 Refo rme d 
 doctrines, and 
 had expressed 
 her determi- 
 nation to con- 
 tinue in them, 
 the Superior 
 of the Domi- 
 nicans the 
 tame evLiiing had sent messages not only to 
 the Archbishops and Bishops of Ferrara, and the 
 heads of the regular clergy, but to the Superiors 
 of the difi'erent monastic institutions, request- 
 ing their attendance at a meeting to be held the 
 next day in the refectbry of the Dominican convent, 
 to take into consideration the best means to be 
 adopted at once -to put a 'stop to the baneful heresy 
 which now afflicted the Church in the Duchies of 
 Ferrara and Modena. The message also stated 
 that another object of the meeting was to receive 
 the Reverend Dr. Matthew Oriz, Chief Inquisitor 
 of France, who had been sent by the Most Christian 
 King Henry II. on a special mission to the Duchy. 
 By nine o'clock, the refectory having been put 
 in perfect order for the meeting, and the lay 
 brother in charge of the arrangements having de- 
 clared all to be in readiness, the Superior of the 
 convent and Oriz descended to inspect the prepa- 
 rations which had been made. After expressing 
 their approval the lay brother retired, and an 
 earnest conversation ensued between the two monks 
 — earnest at least so far as the apparently impas- 
 sive nature of Oriz would allow him to show. 
 Their conversation principally turned on the busi- 
 ness to be presented to the meeting, and the neces- 
 sity there was for impressing on it that the moment 
 had come when energetic action should be taken. 
 Oriz, his habitually calm eye lightening up as he 
 spoke, expressed his opinion that now the plague 
 of heresy in the Duchy might be extirpated 
 at a single blow, and the Church again resume 
 her authority. The Superior fully agreed with 
 Oriz. In fact, the two monks seemed to have 
 changed their relative positions, for while Oriz 
 in his manner showed towards his companion 
 
 the obedience and respect due to the Superior of 
 a convent, in his tone he undisguisedly assumed 
 the lead ; while, again, the Superior, accepting the 
 outward signs of respect shown him by Oriz, quietly 
 acquiesced in every opinion he uttered, and ex- 
 pressed his willingness to carry out every plan of 
 action suggested. 
 
 The first delegate to the meeting who arrived 
 at the convent was the General of the Capuchins. 
 This office had been twice held by Ochinb 
 when he was a brother of the order. A strong 
 difference, however, existed between the present 
 General and Ochino. While the latter was all ani- 
 mation, brilliant in his discourse, and graceful in 
 his person, his successor was even common in his 
 appearance, of heavy frame, and unintellectual 
 countenance. His principal qualificatipns for the 
 appointment he held were those of a discreet super- 
 intendent of the funds of his order, and an attorney- 
 like astuteness in prosecuting with success obscure 
 points connected with the legality of pecuniary or 
 property claims supposed to belong to the fra- 
 ternity. 
 
 On being introduced to Oriz, he shortly expressed 
 the great gratification he felt at the arrival of so 
 eminent a man, who, he had no doubt, would con- 
 tribute greatly not only to the spiritual welfare of 
 the Church, but to her power as well. Oriz grate- 
 fully thanked the Capuchin for the compliment he 
 had paid him, and in return trusted that he should 
 have the General's assistance in the good work they 
 were about to enter on. 
 
 " You may be perfectly certain," said the General, 
 " that all the assistance in my power, and in that 
 of the brethren of our order, shall be willingly ren- 
 dered you, and I flatter myself you will find us 
 energetic soldiers of the Church." 
 
 " At the same time," said Oriz, " the Church not 
 only requires brave soldiers, but disciplined ones as 
 well. Without discipline one-half our power will 
 be lost. We have already reformed the plan of 
 action of the Holy Office, and we trust that all will 
 assist us by putting into our hands whatever in- 
 formation may come under their notice. Not that 
 we doubt, the discretion or ability of odiers, yet, at 
 the same time, one central authority is necessary, 
 and by permission of our Holy Father the Pope, 
 that is at present placed in our hands j so that 
 by accumulating all kinds of information, we may 
 be better able to strike the blow where it will be 
 most effective." 
 
 " I perfectly agree with you," said the Capuchin 
 General ; " and I moreover hold that no informa- 
 tion, of however trifling a description, should be kept 
 from you ; and in proof, the object of my early 
 arrival at the convent was to place in your hands 
 some information, possibly trifling in itself, which 
 reached, me yesterday. In the morning, an old 
 man of the name of Carlo Pedretti, formerly em- 
 ployed to strike the hours in the Rigobello 
 
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 50 
 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 53 
 
 tower, called at our convent, to inquire after a 
 brother whom he had brought with him into the 
 city two nights before, but whom he had parted 
 with before reaching the convent. On inquiring 
 among the bretliren, no one was found answer- 
 ing to the description. The old man was told 
 he was in error, as all the brethren had been at 
 the benediction in the convent that evening, and 
 no one had afterwards quitted the building. The 
 old man, however, insisted that he was not in error, 
 stating that he had rowed a travelling Capuchin 
 across the river long after Ave Maria, as the regular 
 lerry boats were not allowed to work later. In 
 vain was he assured that no travelling brother had 
 arrived at the convent on the evening in question. 
 Pedretti maintained that it was the case, and that 
 he had conducted him nearly to the comer of 
 the street. On being required to give a description 
 of the friar, he replied that he had not seen his 
 features, lor besides that it was nearly dark when 
 he first addressed him, he now remembered that 
 he had worn his cowl deep over his face, a uct 
 which he did not remark at the time, but which 
 afterwards had recuiTcd to his memory more than 
 once. On being asked what object he had in 
 visiting the new-comer, he replied with some 
 hesitation, that he had no particular reason beyond 
 being somewhat uneasy in his conscience, for 
 although nothing extraordinary had struck him at 
 the time in the Friar's behaviour, there had ever since 
 appeared to him to be some mystery about it. In 
 the first place, he did not clearly understand why 
 he should have objected to enter the city by the 
 Via del Po. The Porto del Po was not at so great 
 a distance from the Capuchin convent as to have 
 induced the Friar to wade a mile through the clay 
 and marshes when it was nearly dark, and when it 
 was uncertain whether he would be able to get 
 ferried over, especially when he knew that without 
 trouble he could have obtained a place in the ferry- 
 boat at Mal-Albergo. He couldn't understand it, 
 he said. The way there would have been quite as 
 easy to find as by the Porta San Giorgio ; and be- 
 sides that, he would have passed by the convent of 
 the Corpus Domini, where he could have asked 
 his way if he had had any difficulty. And then 
 again it struck him, that in leaving the high road 
 and crossing the marshes, it almost seemed as if 
 the Friar wished to visit the heretic ferryman, 
 Giacomo, as he was evidently proceeding in a 
 straight line to his house. We questioned him," 
 continued the Capuchin General, " as to what 
 could have put these doubts into his head. He re- 
 plied, that on thinking over the conversation which 
 had passed between them, he remembered that 
 the P'riar had not only delended and spoken well of 
 the Duchess, but had also made particular inquiries 
 whether the heretic Judge Biagio Rosetti was still 
 in Ferrara. Altogether he had been unhappy 
 about it ever since, and had called at the convent 
 to get such explanation about it as might serve as 
 a salve to his conscience. Although, of course, 
 we did not let Pedretti see we were at all anxious 
 
 on the subject, we caused inquiries to be made 
 through the whole city, but no tidings could we 
 gain of the Friar. I therefore wish to submit to you 
 whether it may not be possible that some heretic 
 of note has introduced himself into the city under 
 the disguise of a member of our Holy Order." 
 
 " Nothing more likely," said the Superior of the 
 Dominicans. " We all know that the arch-heretic 
 John Calvin himself has already more than once 
 visited the city in disguise, to encourage in their 
 evil ways those whom by his pernicious doctrines 
 he had led astray. The subject shall receive the 
 serious attention of the Holy Office, and we are 
 most grateful to you for having brought it under our 
 notice." 
 
 It was now nearly time for the meeting, and 
 members of the difterent bodies began to arrive. 
 Among the earliest were the Archbishop of Ferrara 
 and the Jesuit Pelletario. Then came the dele- 
 gates from the Carthusian monastery in the Via 
 Borsa, attended by two brethren of the order, the 
 Superior of the 'I'heatins, and many members of 
 other different religious bodies, as well as the most 
 eminent of the parochial clergy, till the large hall of 
 the refectory was completely filled with clergy all 
 anxious to take a part in the proceedings, as well 
 as to receive the celebrated Inquisitor and doctor 
 in theology, who was that day to be presented to 
 them. 
 
 After many of the most notable among them had 
 been presented to Oriz, the Archbishop of Ferrara 
 was invited to preside, and having taken his seat 
 in a small, slightly elevated open pulpit, which 
 somewhat resembled the throne of a judge, with 
 Oriz on the one side of him and the Superior of 
 the Dominicans on the other, the rest of the 
 meeting ranged themselves round him, the whole 
 forming one of those picturesque combinations 
 for which the costumes of the Roman Catholic 
 clergy appear so peculiarly adapted. 
 
 The Archbishop now rose to address the meeting. 
 He told them that although several among them had 
 already formed the acquaintance of Dr. Matthew 
 Oriz, it was now his pleasing duty to introduce him 
 generally to the assembly. Their reverend brother, 
 who had filled the high office of Chief Inquisitor of 
 France, had now arrived in Ferrara on a special 
 mission of importance from the Most Christian 
 King, His Majesty Henry II., as well as authorised 
 by His Holiness to take the supreme direction of 
 the Holy Office established in the city. Of the spe- 
 cial mission with which his reverend brother had 
 been entrusted by his Majesty, it was not for him 
 to speak. What the purport of his instructions 
 might be he knew nothing, but of this he was per- 
 suaded that, whether he divulged or kept them 
 secret, they might all be assured that their reverend 
 brother would be actuated by one principle — the 
 advancement and good of the Church. Of this he 
 could promise the reverend doctor, that whatever 
 help he might require from the regular clergy or 
 monastic orders in the diocese, he would be certain 
 to receive it — all being assured that a man of his 
 
54 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 eminence, and holding as he did the important 
 position of Chief Inquisitor of France, would ask 
 for no aid or information which they would not 
 willingly accord him. 
 
 A simultaneous burst of acquiescence broke from 
 the assembly, and when it had somewhat subsided 
 the Inquisitor Oriz rose to address the meeting. 
 Flattering as had been the reception they had given 
 him, it seemed not to make the slightest impression 
 on his feelings. Not the least appearance of ex- 
 citement was noticeable on his countenance, and 
 the tone of his voice was calm and unimpassioned. 
 He commenced by thanking them for the assistance 
 he was convinced every individual would willingly 
 accord him, but before asking it he should like to 
 explain, as far as discretion would allow him, t^je 
 object of his mission, and the reasons, beyond the 
 commands of his superiors, which had induced him 
 to undertake it. 
 
 " It was not," he said, " any doubt of the energy 
 or ability shown by the Dominican Fathers in 
 Ferrara, in the management of the duties of the 
 Holy Office, which induced his Majesty the 
 King of France to request me to undertake the 
 mission, as that Most Christian king would have 
 been averse to interfere in either the ecclesiastical 
 or political affairs of the Duchy of Ferrara. On the 
 contrary, it was the direct request and applica- 
 tion of his Highness the Duke himself, that induced 
 his Majesty to intrust me with the mission. In the 
 summer of last year the Duke wrote a letter to his 
 Majesty the King of France, in which, after speak- 
 ing of the unfortunate spread of heresy in his 
 dominions — heresy from which his own family were 
 not altogether free — he requested his Majesty to 
 send him an ecclesiastic well-versed in argument, 
 and accustomed to the duties of an inquisitor, who 
 might succeed in bringing the illustrious Duchess 
 Rende of France back into the fold of the Church, 
 as well as assist, by his advice and experience, his 
 brother Dominicans in extirpating the evil which 
 had been introduced into the city by the arch- 
 heretic, John Calvin, and which has since taken 
 such strong root in Ferrara, that it was lately 
 pointed at by Lutherans themselves as the centre 
 of Protestantism in Italy. Fortunately, through 
 the admirable energy of the reverend fathers of the 
 Inquisition, aided by the counsel and wisdom of 
 that true son of the Church, the reigning Duke, 
 that unhappy state of things no longer exists. In 
 Italy at present heresy has no rallying-point, nor 
 can Ferrara be now designated as the stronghold of 
 schismatics, for although there are still many deluded 
 ones resident in the city, they are as sheep without 
 a shepherd. Already heresy is nearly extinct in 
 the valley of Aosta, that district which Calvin con- 
 sidered exclusively his own. In Como hardly a 
 heretic remains; and the schismatic Churches of 
 Pisa, Florence, and Naples are either extinct or 
 their deluded members meet secretly to perform a 
 worship scarcely less obnoxious to our Church than 
 the worship of the arch-fiend himself. In Venice, 
 notwithstanding the headstrong opposition of the 
 
 senate, and their determination not to allow the 
 ecclesiastical law, which should rule all laws, to 
 be dominant over the civil power, the true reli- 
 gion is regaining her sway. Still the heretics in 
 all parts, deceived by their priestjiood, look to 
 Ferrara as their rallying-point, and believe they 
 will yet receive support and protection from the 
 illustrious Duchess, who has now, under the bless- 
 ing of heaven, lost all her power to do evil. From 
 this idea it will be our duty to undeceive them. 
 We must prove to them that Ferrara is no longer 
 the hotbed of schism it was when Ochino openly 
 defied the powers of Rome, and the arch-heretic 
 Calvin (though under an assumed name) boldly 
 opened a school for the dissemination of his 
 schismatic doctrines under the protection of the 
 Duchess herself, and openly preached defiance 
 of the Pope, hurling his blasphemous denuncia- 
 tions at what he termed the idolatry of the mass, 
 that most respected and beloved of the mysteries of 
 our Church. All this, we must shortly prove to the 
 whole of Italy, is a thing of the past. Although it 
 is certain there are many in Ferrara who still cling 
 with determined tenacity to the depraved doc- 
 trines of the so-called Reformers, there can be no 
 doubt that a divine blessing has now fallen on the 
 labours of the holy Inquisition, and that in a 
 short time Italy will be freed from the pestilence, 
 and the Church resume again her original power 
 and splendour." 
 
 Although during the greater part of his address, 
 which lasted nearly an hour, Oriz maintained his 
 usual calm tone and manner, his words falling slowly 
 and impressively on the ear, when he spoke of the 
 hope he felt that the Church would soon again be 
 dominant, his manner suddenly changed so com- 
 pletely, that he could hardly have been recognised 
 as the same individual. He had stood till then with 
 his body slightly bent, and keeping his eyes on the 
 floor of the hall, occasionally, and only for a moment, 
 raising them when he personally addressed the Arch- 
 bishop, and then lowering them again when he 
 resumed the thread of his subject. But when he 
 touched on the glorious prospect of the Church 
 he drew himself up to his full height, and with 
 wonderful animation gazed on the assembled priests 
 and monks, his voice assuming at the time such power 
 of tone and fluency of diction as to make him ap- 
 pear almost inspired. At the conclusion of his ad- 
 dress, however, the brilliant animation which had 
 sparkled in his eye suddenly vanished, and the flush 
 which had at the moment overspread his counte- 
 nance disappeared, leaving the same marble hue 
 which his complexion had worn before he com- 
 menced speaking. Again assuming his habitual calm 
 demeanour, and bowing humbly and almost depre- 
 catingly to the buzz of admiration which spontane- 
 ously burst from the assembly, he withdrew from his 
 prominent position beside the Archbishop, and re- 
 tired to one of the back seats, as if their congratula- 
 tions and applause were painful to him. 
 
 The Father Fabrizio, the Superior of the convent 
 of the Dominicans, now rose to address the meeting. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 55 
 
 He said that although he had wished to resign his 
 office as Superior of the convent, the Reverend Father 
 Oriz would not allow him. He much regretted the 
 fact, as in his humble opinion the interests of the 
 Church would have been advanced by it. At the 
 same time it was his duty not to put his wish in 
 opposition to one so far more learned than himself. 
 It was his duty to obey, and he would do so. He 
 could not disguise from himself that it would be de- 
 trimental to the interests of the Church, and an act 
 of presumption on his part, if he continued longer 
 as the head of the executive of the Holy Office in 
 extirpating the remains of heresy in Ferrara. For 
 the future that duty would be put into the hands 
 of the Reverend Dr. Oriz, and he (the Supe- 
 rior) would, in all subjects connected with the Holy 
 Office, act as his subordinate. He flattered himself 
 that although the secular power had been but little 
 used latterly in Ferrara, the reverend Father would 
 find that they had not been idle. True, they had 
 occasionally employed the secular power, and 
 punished in an exemplary manner many of those 
 who, after due admonition, had been found obstinate 
 in their heresy, or had relapsed. They had done so 
 the rather as examples and warnings to others, as 
 well as to show that the Fathers of the Holy Office 
 were not sleeping at their posts. But while the out- 
 ward demonstrations of energetic action were per- 
 haps less visible in Ferrara than in many other towns 
 in Italy where the foul heresy of Lutheranism or Cal- 
 vinism had taken root, they should be fully able to 
 prove to the reverend Father that they had been 
 actively employed the while, and were totally free 
 from any charge of lukewarmness. Anticipating the 
 arrival of the reverend Father, they had lately prin- 
 cipally occupied themselves in obtaining information 
 as to the spread of heresy in the Duchy, and what 
 were the numbers and position in life of those in- 
 fected by it ; and so well had they succeeded that at 
 the present moment he could confidently state they 
 were ripe ibr action. They had now but to place 
 the reins of power in the hands of their reverend 
 brother, and, no doubt, in a short time there would 
 not be a city in Italy clearer from the stain of heresy 
 than Ferrara. 
 
 Several other speakers followed the Superior of 
 the Dominicans, and among them a monk of the 
 Carthusian Order, whose convent was at Modena, 
 but who had now arrived at Ferrara for the purpose 
 of giving the Holy O^ce a description of the state 
 of the Church in his city. After expressing his 
 great satisidction at having heard the address, and 
 personally making the acquaintance of the Reverend 
 Dr. Matthew Oriz, of whose reputation as a true 
 soldier of the Church all Christian Europe was 
 well aware, he proceeded to describe the condi- 
 tion of the heretics in the sister city of Modena, 
 and the exertions made by the clergy — especially 
 the monastic orders — to extirpate it. He regretted 
 to state that Modena was scarcely less infected 
 than Ferrara itself. In the latter city the populace 
 had been misled by many teachers of eminence and 
 ability, who had not only infected the learned, but 
 
 obtained their assistance in disseminating the doc- 
 trines they taught. The mass of the populace, 
 unable to understand the sophistry made use of, 
 yet lespecting those more learned than themselves, 
 had adopted those doctrines without attempting to 
 understand the fallacious arguments brought for- 
 ward to support them. In Modena, on the con- 
 trary, the Calvinists were, as a rule, of a far less 
 educated class than in Ferrara, and less likely to 
 offer any effectual opposition to the power of the 
 Inquisition. At present, as in Ferrara, the clergy 
 of Modena had for some time past been openly less 
 energetic in their punishment of offenders, but they 
 had in the meantime made themselves thoroughly 
 acquainted with the names, opinions, and ability of 
 those professing heretical doctrines ; and they now 
 only waited for the example of Ferrara, to strike 
 one last powerful blow that should put an end to 
 schism in their city. 
 
 A monk from Commachio next spoke, who de- 
 scribed the state of that town as strongly resembling 
 Modena. Several others followed, all of whom 
 agreed that the time had now arrived for energetic 
 action, and that shortly there would not be found 
 in the whole of the Duchy an individual who was 
 not a true son of the Church of Rome. 
 
 The meeting now broke up, and for some time 
 conversation on the state of the Church and matters 
 relating to ecclesiastical affairs, was carried on among 
 the members, who stood in groups, till the bell tolled 
 for mass, and the whole assembly then forming them- 
 selves into a procession, entered the magnificent 
 church of the Corpus Domini, attached to the con- 
 vent, where mass was performed with great pomp 
 by the Archbishop. When it was concluded, the 
 principal doors, which had been closed during the 
 ceremony, were opened to allow the congregation 
 to leave the church. But here an unexpected 
 obstacle presented itself to their quiet departure. 
 In the open space before the church an immense 
 crowd had collected, their curiosity having been 
 raised by the large number of ecclesiastics they had 
 seen enter the monastery. Indeed, judging that some 
 ceremony of unusual magnificence was likely to be 
 performed in the church, they had assembldd to 
 witness it. They were, however, doomed to be 
 disappointed, for the sacristans having received 
 notice that the mass would be strictly private, the 
 only persons allowed to be present being eccle- 
 siastics and members of the different orders of 
 monks, the great doors of the church were closed, 
 much to the annoyance of the populace who wished 
 to assist at it. Even when the doors were opened 
 many rushed forward anxious to enter the building, 
 and the sacristans and lay-brothers at first experi- 
 enced much trouble in stopping them. In a short 
 time, however, order was completely restored. The 
 venerable Archbishop advanced to the door, fol- 
 lowed by the rest of the assembly, with the exception 
 of the Jesuit Pelletario, who remained performing 
 some devotions at one of the altars. As soon as the 
 Archbishop was recognised all disorder subsided, 
 and the assembled crowd, after leaving a space foi 
 
56 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 him and those that followed to walk through, de- 
 voutly knelt to receive his blessing as he passed 
 He continued his way onward, bestowing his bene- 
 diction on them as he went, till he had reached the 
 street leading to the castle, when he entered the 
 litter in which he had arrived at the convent. 
 Those of the clergy who had followed then dis- 
 persed to their different homes, and in a short time 
 the excitement which the meeting had caused 
 among the populace completely subsided. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. — THE TRIAL OF STRENGTH. 
 
 The Jesuit Pelletario,-, having been invited to at- 
 tend the meeting of ecclesiastics to be held in the 
 refectory of the convent of the Corpus Domini, left 
 the palace of San Francisco an hour before the 
 time appointed, for the purpose of first calling at 
 the castle to ascertain whether the Duke had re- 
 turned to it, and probably, as he had threatened, to 
 inform his Highness that Ochino was there a guest 
 of the Duchess. On arriving at the gate of the 
 lions, the sentinel on duty immediately recognised 
 him, and calling to the officer on guard at the inner 
 gate, the drawbridge was lowered to allow him to 
 enter. The officer received the Duke's confessor 
 with great respect, and begged permission to kiss 
 his hand, which Pelletario allowed him to do, and 
 he then asked if his Highness had returned to the 
 castle. 
 
 " He returned at a late hour yesterday evening, 
 reverend Father," was the officer's reply. 
 
 " Is he here now ? " 
 
 " He is : but I heard it rumoured that his High- 
 ness intends leaving Ferrara this afternoon to visit 
 Belriguardo. How far this is correct I know not ; 
 but doubtless the major-domo will be able to give 
 you more accurate information on the subject. Is 
 there anything fiirther I can do to serve you, reve- 
 rend Father?" 
 
 " Nothing at present, I thank you," said Pelle- 
 tario, and saluting condescendingly those who had 
 gathered around him, he left the gate and pro- 
 ceeded up the grand staircase to the landing, where 
 he met the major-domo at the doorway leading 
 into the great hall. By this official Pelletario was re- 
 ceived with even greater demonstrations of respect 
 than had been shown him by the officer on guard 
 at the drawbridge. To his inquiry in what way he 
 could serve him, Pelletario merely replied by ask- 
 ing if his Highness had left his private apartments. 
 
 " He has,' reverend-Father," was the major-domo's 
 answer. " He is now deeply occupied in his cabi- 
 net with two noblemen, with whom he had made 
 an appointment. Indeed, he gave orders that no 
 one was to disturb him ; but doubtless he would 
 make an exception in your case. Shall I inform 
 him y6u wish to see him ? " 
 
 At first the Jesuit appeared somewhat undecided 
 what answer to make ; but at length he said, " Is 
 it true that his Highness intends to leave Ferrara 
 to-day to visit Belriguardo ? " 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " At what time does he propose leaving ? " 
 
 " Up . to the present moment I have received no 
 precise orders on the subject, beyond that I am to 
 see everything is in readiness for his departure. I 
 am, however, certain he will not leave before the 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because his Highness has made an appoint- 
 ment to receive at noon the reverend Dominican, 
 Father Oriz." 
 
 Pelletario heard this intelligence with consider- 
 able surpriscw He remained for some moments 
 silent, and then said, — 
 
 " Do you know whether the appointment was 
 made at the request of the Duke, or was it asked 
 for by the reverend Father ? " 
 
 " At the request of the reverend Father. Yester- 
 day evening he sent a lay brother to inquire whether 
 his Highness had arrived ; and on being told that he 
 was not expected till late at night, he went back to 
 the convent, and this morning early — in fact, before 
 the Duke had risen from his bed — the same lay 
 brother returned, and waited till I had an oppor- 
 tunity to deliver his message, to which the Duke 
 replied that he would receive the reverend Father 
 at noon. But shall I tell his Highness you wish to 
 see him ? " 
 
 " No," said Pelletario, " I will not disturb him 
 now, for no doubt he is occupied on business of 
 importance. I will return later." 
 
 So saying, the Jesuit took leave of the major-domo, 
 and descending the staircase, quitted the castle. 
 
 The pace of Pelletario on his way to the con- 
 vent was slow and deliberate in the extreme, and 
 an expression of deep, thought was on his face. 
 So pre-occupied was he that he took but little 
 notice of the respectful salutations he received 
 from those he met on the road, an omission the 
 more remarkable on his part, as he was habitually 
 courteous and condescending to all. Nor was he 
 without cause for his pre-occupation. As father- 
 confessor to the Duke, his position was one of the 
 most influential in the state, and he was universally 
 courted and flattered. Hitherto he had been with- 
 out a rival, but was that likely to continue ? From 
 the regular clergy and monastic orders in the city 
 he had little cause for anxiety, but his mind was by, 
 no means clear with regard to Oriz. True, he 
 only knew him by reputation, but fame spoke of 
 him as a man of great ability, much liked by the 
 monarchs of Spain and France. Besides, he had great 
 confidence placed in him by his Holiness. To have 
 arrived at such eminence he calculated must have 
 required something more than profound theological 
 learning and great energy in the cause of the 
 Roman Catholic religion. He must also be pos- 
 sessed of that valuable qualification — the power to 
 make himself liked by the princes of the earth, and 
 if he had already succeeded so well with others, might 
 he not be equally successful with the Duke ? True, 
 Oriz liad not succeeded at his interview with the 
 Duchess, but he (Pelletario) had also been unable 
 to convince her. One difference, however, he 
 could discover between his own interview with 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 57 
 
 Ren^e, and that of Oriz. Although she had posi- 
 tively refused to listen to his arguments, he parted 
 iiom her without anydisplay of anger on her part, 
 while she had evidently been greatly offended 
 with Oriz ; and Rende was not of a disposi- 
 tion to easily forget a personal affront. At the 
 same time the Jesuit could not help admitting 
 that the very energy of the Dominican which had 
 <a.used so much anger in the breast of the Duchess 
 might have a contrary effect with her husband. 
 All things considered, Pellelaiio could not disguise 
 from himself that his power and position was at 
 the moment in jeopardy, and that it behoved him 
 to play his part with great caution. To be the 
 better able to do this, he determitied, if possible, to 
 have a trial of strength that day with the Inquisitor, 
 and judge by the results whether he had as for- 
 midable an adversary to deal with as appeared 
 probable. 
 
 It will be remembered that when the mass , ter- 
 minated, and the assembly of divines quitted the 
 church, Pelletario alone remained performing some 
 devotional act before one of the altars. This, how- 
 ever, ended shortly after the church was cleared. 
 Then rising from his knees, he requested the 
 sacristan to allow him to pass by the private way 
 which led iiom the church into the convent, as 
 he wished to have an interview with the Reverend 
 Doctor Oriz. The sacristan — to whom, of course, 
 Pelletario was well-known — with profound respect, 
 not only conducted him through the private door 
 leading into the convent, but was on the point of 
 accompanjdng him across the quadrangle to the 
 cell occupied by Oriz, when the latter was seen 
 descending the staircase, with his head covered, 
 and evidently on the point of leaving the building. 
 
 Pelletario, having dismissed the sacristan, now 
 advanced towards the Dominican. 
 
 "Pardon my interrupting you," he said, "but I 
 was loth to return to the palace without first 
 complimenting you on your admirable address to 
 the meeting this morning. Had our Church pos- 
 sessed a few more advocates with your ability and 
 energy, the lamentable schism which has afflicted 
 Christendom would never have taken the deep 
 root it has. At the same time we have reason to 
 be thankful that at last one has sprung up amongst 
 us who will crush with his heel the head of the 
 serpent which hitherto has remained with com- 
 parative impunity in the city." 
 
 "You do me too' much honour," said Oriz, 
 humbly ; " or, if I have shown any of the energy 
 or ability for which you compliment me, I am 
 indebted to a far higher power than my own talent 
 or inspiration." 
 
 "At least, you must admit," said Pelletario, 
 " that if I am in error, I am not alone in it, and 
 the manner in which the whole assembly of divines 
 hailed the idea that you were about to assume the 
 direction of the Inquisition in Ferrara proves it." 
 
 " Still, it might rather be attributed to their kind 
 feeling than to my merits," said Oriz. "Yet flattering 
 as their reception was, it rather pained than pleased 
 
 me, as it seemed to convey the idea, that our 
 reverend brother, the Superior of the convent, had 
 not, in their estimation, conducted the affairs of 
 the Holy Office with sufficient energy. With such 
 a view I by no means agree. He has had great 
 difficulties to contend with ; more so than usually 
 falls to the lot of our office, in the opposition 
 shown him by her Highness the Duchess. On the 
 whole, I consider he has conducted the duties of 
 the Holy Office with great discretion and ability." 
 
 " I perfectly agree with you," said Pelletario, 
 " in the opinion you have formed of the ability and 
 energy of our reverend brother, the Superior of the 
 convent, and I am much pleased to hear the kind 
 view you take of his conduct. But, pardon me," 
 he continued, looking on the sun-dial at the wall, 
 " for detaining you, for I perceive you are about 
 to quit the convent. I wish to visit his Highness 
 to-day at noon ; so, unless you are going my way, 
 I will bid you good morning." 
 
 " It is my intention likewise to call upon his 
 Highness," said Oriz ; " in fact, I have received his 
 commands to do so." 
 
 " If I should not be disturbing your meditations, 
 or appear indiscreet," said Pelletario, " I should 
 much Uke to accompany you." 
 
 The Dominican having expressed the pleasure 
 he should feel in Pelletario's society, the two monks 
 quitted the convent together. 
 
 As the time that would elapse in passing irom 
 the Dominican convent to the castle, at even the 
 ordinary slow and deliberate pace usually main- 
 tained by ecclesiastics, would scarcely exceed a 
 quarter of an hour, Pelletario easily perceived he 
 had but little time to lose in his trial of strength 
 with the Dominican, and without further delay he 
 commenced operations. 
 
 " If I may be allowed to put a question of the 
 kind," he said to Oriz, " is your interview with the 
 Duke on a subject of private or public importance ?" 
 
 " I hardly know, my brother, how to answer 
 your question," said Oriz, after a moment's hesita- 
 tion. " Pray be more explicit." 
 
 " My sole reason for inquiring," said Pelletario, 
 "is, that if it were upon a subject solely of public 
 interest connected with the Holy Office, without any- 
 thing confidential being mixed with it, I thought per- 
 haps I might be able to assist you with information." 
 
 " Many thanks for the offer," said Oriz. " It is 
 in connection with the affairs of the Holy Office 
 that I have requested this interview with his High- 
 ness. But, candidly, no inconsiderable portion of 
 it is of a kind which, at first at any rate, should 
 only meet the private ear of the Duke. At the 
 same time, understand me, I shall, in the interests 
 of our holy cause, be most grateful to you for any 
 information you may give me." 
 
 " The subject on which I was about to speak to 
 you," said Pelletario, "is one which not only 
 regards the Holy Office, but his Highness as well. 
 At the same time it is one of much delicacy. I 
 should have taken upon myself to inform his High- 
 ness of it, and had called at the palace this morning 
 
58 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 for that purpose, but as the Duke at the time was 
 busily engaged I did not disturb him. On mature 
 reflection, as the subject is a somewhat painful one, 
 and coming perfectly within the duties of the Holy 
 Office, I thought it perhaps might be better to 
 confide it to you, that you might be the first person 
 to inform his Highness of it." 
 
 "Anything I can do to serve his Highness, or be 
 of use to our holy cause, I will readily attempt," 
 said Oriz. " Might I ask to what you allude ?" 
 
 Pelletario remained silent for a moment, as if 
 hardly daring to communicate a secret of such 
 importance even to the Inquisitor himself. At 
 length he said, " You will hardly believe, reverend 
 brother, what I am about to communicate to you, 
 "though at the same time I assure you solemnly it 
 is a fact. That misguided man and arch-heretic, 
 Bernardino Ochino, is at this moment in Ferraraj 
 and a guest of her Highness the Duchess." 
 
 As Pelletario spoke this, he glanced furtively at 
 his companion, anxious to notice the effect so 
 weighty a communication would make on him ; but 
 not the slightest surprise or emotion was visible 
 on the countenance of the Dominican. 
 
 " My dear brother," he replied to Pelletario, " of 
 that fact I am well aware, and it is one. of the 
 reasons which has induced me to, demand an inter- 
 view with his Highness this morning." 
 
 Although the countenance of Oriz had remained 
 impassive when Pelletario communicated to him 
 the intelligence, not so the features of the Jesuit on 
 hearing the Dominican's reply. The idea seemed 
 to cross his mind whether it, was not possible that 
 the Dominican intended to profit by the discovery 
 he (^Pelletario) had made. To assure himself on 
 this point he said to Oriz — 
 
 " Your means of obtaining information are won- 
 derful. I should hardly have thought the organiza- 
 tion of the Holy Office so perfect as it appears to 
 be. Might I ask if you are aware how long Ochino 
 has been in Ferrara?" 
 
 " Only two or three days," said Oriz. " Short, 
 however, as the time has been, he has already held 
 a prayer-meeting in the palace of the Duchess, 
 which was attended by many of the heads of the 
 schismatics." . . 
 
 " Do you know in what manner he contrived to 
 enter the city?" inquired Pelletario. 
 
 " I think," said Oriz, " you were not in the 
 refectory before the meeting when the General of 
 the Capuchins narrated to us the adventures of an 
 old man, who introduced into the city late at night 
 a stranger clad in the frock of a Friar of their 
 order?" 
 
 " I was not," said Pelletario. 
 
 " Because that disguised Capuchin Friar was no 
 other than Ochino." 
 
 " Pardon me," said Pelletario, " but are you quite 
 sure your information is correct ? Ochino does not 
 wear the frock of his old order, but is dressed more 
 in the style of a professor of the University." 
 
 " Of that I am also aware," said Oriz ; " still the 
 inibrniation of the old man was perfectly correct. 
 
 The dress he now wears is one belonging to the 
 Judge Biagio Rosetti, and the frock, the cowl, and 
 cord in which he was disguised when he entered 
 Ferrara, as well as the sandals he wore, are now 
 concealed in a chest in one of the rooms in the 
 house of the Judge." 
 
 Pelletario now made no attempt to conceal the 
 expression of astonishment on his features at the 
 extraordinary minuteness of the information Oriz 
 had received. The Inquisitor, with something dis- 
 tantly approaching an expression of triumph on his 
 countenance, glanced at the astonishment stamped 
 on the features of his companion. 
 
 " But, my brother," he continued, " all things are 
 ordered for the best ; and that wicked man will 
 now be caught in the trap which he himself has 
 laid, and another enemy of our Church will be 
 crushed at tbe very moment when he considers 
 himself -in-the most perfect security." 
 
 Oriz had turned his glance from his companion's 
 face when he made this remark, or he might have 
 perceived that the expression of astonishment had 
 vanished from Pelletario's countenance, and a 
 peculiar sardonic smile occupied its place. The 
 Jesuit said nothing, and his companion continued — 
 
 " But are there any other points you wish to com- 
 municate to me prior to my interview with his 
 Highness ? Allow me first to say that I much ad- 
 mire your discretion in placing the duty of com- 
 municating the intelligence to the Duke on an 
 humble officer of the Holy Inquisition. At the same 
 time," he continued, with something like patronage 
 in his tone, " be assured, as soon as the first burst 
 of indignation which naturally will arise in the mind 
 of his Highness has somewhat subsided, I will not 
 fail to inform him of the energy and discretion you 
 have shown in the matter. Truly, the Duke is to be 
 congratulated on having chosen a confessor of so 
 much tact and experience." 
 
 The conversation continued a few miniutes longer, 
 until they reached the drawbridge, which was im- 
 mediately lowered to allow them to enter; and 
 they passed into the great hall till the major- 
 domo should arrive to inform them his High- 
 ness was in readiness to receive them. Little 
 animation did Pelletario show in his tone and 
 mannei", and on being asked by Oriz if he had 
 any turther communication to make, the Jesuit 
 told him he had not, and then added, with something 
 like bitterness in his tone, " At least, none which I 
 am certain is not in your possession already." Then, 
 quitting his companion, he seemed apparently to 
 watch the eftorts of some workmen who were then- , 
 occupied in terminating the repairs in that portion 
 of the Este Palace. 
 
 At length the major-domo entered the hall, and 
 informed the two monks that his Highness was ready 
 to receive them ; and they followed him into his 
 presence, where they were received by the Duke 
 with equal kindness and amiability. 
 
 " I hear you called at the castle this morning to 
 see me," he said to Pelletario ; " I regret you did 
 not allow the major-domo to tell me you were here. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 59 
 
 I wanted to inform you that it is my intention to 
 leave the castle for Belriguardo this afternoon, and 
 I much wish you to accompany me. I trust you 
 will be able to do so, although the notice is of 
 the shortest." 
 
 " I shall have much pleasure in obeying the com- 
 mands of your Highness," said Pelletario with great 
 satisfaction in his tone, for the idea at the moment 
 had occurred to him, that he would have ample 
 
 leisure when with the Duke to neutralise any as- 
 cendency Oriz might have gained over his illustrious 
 penitent's mind. " I will be at your service at any 
 time you may appoint." 
 
 " I propose leaving in about an hour," said the 
 Duke, " and I have already given orders that your 
 mule should be in readiness for you. Will you be 
 able to accompany me at so short a notice?" 
 
 " Certainly, your Highness," said Pelletario. " 1 
 
 Page 
 
 will take my leave of you then for the present, un- 
 less you have any further orders to give me." 
 
 " You can do so," said the Duke, " if you have 
 nothing more you wish now to say to me. If you 
 have, I am at your service, otherwise the Reverend 
 Father Oriz wishes for some private conversation 
 with me." 
 
 " I will interrupt your Highness no longer," said 
 Pelletario. " In an hour's time I will be ready 
 at the castle for your departure ;" and then bowing 
 
 with great humility, both to the Duke and the Do- 
 minican, the Jesuit left the apartments. 
 
 As soon as the Duke and the Dominican were 
 alone, the former asked him if he had seen the 
 Duchess. 
 
 " I had an interview with her Highness yesterday 
 afternoon," said Oriz, " but I cannot say I met with 
 much success. However, I do not despair, but 
 trust I shall yet be able to bring tlie illustrious lady 
 back again into the fold. I have known those who 
 
6o 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 have resisted the Holy Office quite as energetically 
 as she has done brought back again, and afterwards 
 remain among the most exemplary and obedient of 
 its children." 
 
 " I fear," said the Duke, "you will have more 
 trouble than you anticipate. Unfortunately, here- 
 tical opinions have been engrafted upon the mind 
 of my wife by men of such ability, and so deeply 
 have they taken hold, that there will be much diffi- 
 culty in removing them." 
 
 " With assistance from your Highness," said 
 Oriz, calmly, " or even with your passive permission 
 and no active intervention on your part, I am fully 
 persuaded I shall be able to effect the conversion 
 of the Duchess, provided you will allow me to carry 
 out to the letter the instructions I have reeeived 
 from his Majesty the King of France." 
 
 " I would willingly do much to meet the views of 
 my illustrious relative," said the Duke, " but much 
 as I grieve at the heretical opinions entertained by 
 her Highness, I cannot forget she is my wif2." 
 
 " Still, might I suggest to your Highness," said 
 Oriz, " that the letter of his Majesty is worthy the 
 gravest consideration. He can be prompted only 
 by the interest he takes in the welfare of the souls 
 of his illustrious aunt and her amiable children. 
 He naturally feels the danger the young Prin- 
 cesses are in by residing under the same roof 
 with a mother afflicted with Protestant principles, 
 and with a heretic companion, fearing that her 
 children, ioUowing such example, might have their 
 minds also perverted from the pure doctrines of the 
 true Church." 
 
 " Reverend Father," said Duke Ercole, some- 
 what impatiently, " let us clearly understand each 
 other. It is my wish to show profound respect to 
 your mission, but, ample as its scope may be, it has 
 yet its limits. True, my daughters have remained 
 under the care of their mother, but it has been with 
 the express understanding that their religion shall 
 not be tampered with ; and, to do her justice, the 
 Duchess has kept as faithfully to her agreement as 
 shedid in the case of my eldest daughter, the Princess 
 Anna, at present Duchess of Guise, than whom, 
 I think you will admit, a more sincere Catholic is 
 not to be found in the whole of Europe. And what 
 greater danger will the Princesses Luciezia and 
 Eleanora run by the companionship of the young 
 girl Teresa Rosetti than did the Princess Anna from 
 the companionship and society of the talented 
 Olympia Morato? I presume you allude to that 
 young girl when you speak of the possibility of the 
 religious principles of niy daughters being contami- 
 nated, as, I am informed by the Father Pelletario, 
 they have no other Protestant acquaintance." 
 
 " Without admitting that the companionship of a 
 heretic young girl is unattended with danger to the 
 minds of the Princesses, I beg to inform your 
 Highness that there is at this moment dwelling 
 under the same roof with them, and receiving hos- 
 pitality at the hands of the Duchess (although as 
 yet, I admit, the Princesses have not made his ac- 
 quaintance), one of the most dreaded enemies of 
 
 our holy religion. I mean the ex-General of the 
 Capuchins, Bernardino Ochino." 
 
 It would be difficult to describe the astonishment 
 and rage of the Duke at these words. It was some 
 time before he could collect his thoughts sufficiently 
 to reply. 
 
 "Father," he said at last, "you must be mis-' 
 taken. The miscreant could never have had the 
 courage to present himself in Ferrara, nor dare the 
 Duchess receive him. You must have been mis- 
 led by your informants. No, it is impossible a 
 thing of the kind should have taken place without 
 Pelletario being aware of it." 
 
 " The revererid brother Pelletario was only 
 aware of the fact yesterday evening, after his return 
 with your Highness from Belriguardo, and Ochino 
 has not been in the palace more than two or three 
 days. I should state that the Jesuit Father, im- 
 mediately he knew of it, had resolved to inform 
 your Highness, but on second thoughts considered 
 it more the duty of the Holy Office to take up the 
 matter, and requested me to give you the informa- 
 tion. Although Ochino has been but three days in 
 the palace, he has had sufficient time to collect 
 within its walls, to what he calls a prayer-meeting, 
 many of the principal heretics in Ferrara, and 
 after their mock service was over, many subjects 
 were spoken of, especially by a young Swiss from 
 Geneva, which showed but little respect to your 
 Highness and the laws." 
 
 " Reverend Father," said Ercole, after a moment's 
 silence, " you completely over^vhelm me. In your 
 hands I now leave the management of the Duchess, 
 under the perfect understanding that her pergonal 
 safety shall be respected. Beyond that, do as' you 
 may think right." 
 
 " But pardon me, your Highness,'' said Oriz de- 
 terminedly, " I must decline moving in the matter 
 unless I am allowed the full authority proposed in 
 my letter of instructions from his Majesty. Permit 
 me again to read a portion of them." 
 
 The Duke having acquiesced, Oriz drew from his 
 pocket his letter of instructions, and commenced 
 reading — " ' If after such remonstrances and per- 
 suasions oi Noire Maitre Oriz to make her know the 
 truth, and the difference there is between light and 
 darkness, it shall appear that he is unable by gentle 
 means to gain her and to reclaim her, he shall take 
 counsel with the said Lord Duke as to what can 
 possibly be done in the way of rigour and severity 
 to bring her to reason.' And again it continues— 
 ' His Majesty wills and approves, and indeed prays 
 and exhorts the said Duke, that he would cause the 
 said lady to be put in a place secluded from society 
 and conversation, where she may henceforth injure 
 no one but herself, taking from her her own children.' 
 By this your Highness must perceive that it is the 
 opinion of his Majesty, the King of France, that 
 measures of great severity should be taken with his 
 illustrious aunt, to bring her to a better frame ot 
 mind, even though that can only be efifected by the 
 application of the torture." 
 
 '• I do not like the use ot that word," said 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 61 
 
 Ercole. " Wicked and objectionable as the be- 
 haviour of her Highness has been, she is still my 
 wife, and the mother of my children." 
 
 "I can easily imagine that the application of 
 the torture must be repugnant to the feelings 
 of your Highness, but bear in mind that the 
 dearer the illustrious Duchess, may be to you, the 
 greater interest you should take in her soul ; and 
 tiie pain you may feel in allowing her to be 
 submitted to the torture, will be repaid to you here- 
 after in an eternity of happiness. Nor is a case of 
 the kind without precedent. Elevated as the posi- 
 tion of her Highness undoubtedly is, others in 
 equally high positions have been submitted by 
 their relatives, and of the closest consanguinity, to 
 discipline of the kind, and that to the great good 
 of their souls." 
 
 The Duke remained silent for some moments, 
 and then said — 
 
 " But am I to understand that his Majesty the 
 King of France advises me to put the discipline to 
 be applied to the Duchess entirely into your hands 
 without my right to interfere ? " 
 
 " Pardon me," said Oriz ; " I hardly said so. 
 While his Majest)' advises strong measures to be 
 adopted as well as severe punishment, he directs 
 me to consult with your Highness as to the mode 
 of its application, in order to avoid greater noto- 
 riety than is requisite for the interests of the 
 Church." 
 
 " I am pleased to hear you say so," said the 
 Duke, "as now I think a perfect understanding 
 may exist between us. I will leave the punishment 
 of the whole of the heretic members of the court of 
 her Highness without restriction in your hands, to 
 
 do with them as in your wisdom may seem best 
 With the Duchess herself you have full permission 
 to take any steps you may consider advisable, with 
 any punishment short of the torture or death. 
 Neither the rack nor any other personal chastise- 
 ment shall be used in the case of her Highness, 
 and in this you must admit, on your own authority, 
 I am fully acting up to the instructions you have 
 received." , ; 
 
 " Then am 1 to understand that I have your full 
 authority to alct in-the matter as I may think fit, with 
 the exception of the reservation you have made ?" 
 " Fully and unreservedly," said the Duke. " And 
 that it may not be imagined, even in the most 
 indirect manner, that I attempt to control you or 
 look with coldness on your efforts, in less than an 
 hour I will leave Ferrara for my hunting-palace at 
 Belriguardo, where I will remain for some days." 
 
 Then advancing to the door the Duke ordered 
 the major-domo who was in the hall to send the 
 captain of the guards, and a few moments after- 
 ward? that functionary made his appearance. 
 
 " I am about to leave Ferrara," he said to him, 
 " for some days. During my absence you will 
 obey all commands the Reverend Dr. Oriz may 
 give you, no matter on what subject, as implicitly 
 and unhesitatingly as you would obey me personally. 
 I give no further order, that there may be no mis- 
 take, and remember I shall hold you answerable 
 that every assistance he may require from you is 
 strictly afforded him under the penalty of my severe 
 displeasure." 
 
 So saying, the Duke saluted the Dominican and 
 the Captain of the Guard, and abruptly quitted the 
 
62 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER XII.-^EVENTS FORESHADOWED. 
 
 ' ITTLE sleep 
 was enjoyed 
 by Ren^e or 
 her two lady 
 attendants 
 on the night 
 on which 
 Bernardino 
 Ochino left 
 the Palace of 
 San Francis- 
 co to ask for 
 shelter* and 
 protection 
 fr o m the 
 Judge Biagio 
 R o s e 1 1 i. 
 Early the 
 next morning 
 the Duchess 
 summoned 
 M adonna 
 ^Pontte and 
 Teresa to a small cabinet adjoming her chamber. 
 When they met anxiety and alarm were visible on 
 the faces of the three. After the door of the cabi- 
 net had been closed, Renee asked Teresa if she had 
 received any news from her father of the safe 
 arrival of Ochino at his house. 
 
 " I have heard nothing whatever, your Highness," 
 said Teresa. 
 
 " Is it possible," said Ren^e, " that a messenger 
 may have been sent, and you not hear of it ? Had 
 you not better make inquiiy of the porter ?" 
 
 " I will do so, your Highness," said Teresa, " but 
 I am sure it will be fruitless. No messenger would 
 arrive at the principal entrance, and since daybreak 
 I have myself been on the watch at the head of 
 the staircase leading to the postern door, and no 
 one has applied there." 
 
 A silence of some minutes now ensued, which 
 was broken by the Duchess saying, — 
 
 " I hope no accident has occurred to the worthy 
 pastor. May Heaven protect him." 
 
 Their morning meal was now brought to the 
 room, but none of them had any appetite, and after 
 it had remained on the table for some time, it was 
 taken away untouched. The three how sat quietly 
 together, glancing frequently at one another as if 
 seeking for aid and encouragement which no one 
 was able to give. The most self-possessed among 
 them was undoubtedly the Duchess ; still, even she 
 seemed to be labouring under that peculiar sensa- 
 tion which occasionally comes over us all when in 
 undefined danger, that a terrible misfortune is about 
 to occur, though no one can exactly tell where it 
 may fall, or the hand that may strike the blow. 
 More than an hour passed in silence, and though 
 Madonna Ponte had seated herself at the embroi- 
 
 dery frame — that occupation so much encouraged 
 by the Princesses of the house of Este — after a few 
 stitches, which seemed to have been made com- 
 pletely at hazard, she gave up the attempt, and 
 pushing the frame from her, crossed her hands 
 before her and remained as silent and unoccupied 
 as the Duchess and Teresa. Ren^e was the first 
 to break silence." 
 
 " My child," she said to Teresa, "bring hither 
 my Bible. It ill befits us in our present state tq 
 remain helplessly absorbed in our own languor. 
 Weak women as we may be, we have the power to 
 apply to One who is stronger than all. Let us ofFei; 
 up a prayer to God for protection, as well as aid 
 and comfort for the fugitive, as well as for our 
 persecuted brethren in the city." 
 
 Then opening the Bible which had been placed 
 before her on the table, and Teresa having placed 
 a footstool for her to kneel upon, Rende read with 
 a calm, clear voice, such portions of Scripture 
 as she considered most applicable to their present 
 position ; and when she had concluded she offered 
 up a short but touching prayer for comfort and 
 support. 
 
 On the Duchess again resuming her chair, a, 
 singular change appeared to have taken place in 
 her mind and in those of her two attendants. The 
 expression of anxiety and alarm which had hitherto 
 been plainly visible on their countenances now sub- 
 sided, and they began to converse reasonably on 
 their present position. 
 
 " It is impossible we can disgfuise from ourselves," 
 said Rende, " the fact that some terrible misfortune 
 is awaiting us. What it may be, none of us can 
 tell, but one thing we have in our power, and 
 that is, to bow with resignation to whatever God's 
 will may be. Still, earnestly do I long to know 
 what has befallen the pastor Ochino — whether he 
 has succeeded in quitting the city, or has found in 
 it some secure place of shelter. Go, Teresa, my 
 child, and make inquiries whether any one has 
 arrived at the Palace with a message from your 
 father." 
 
 Teresa left the room as she was ordered, and 
 shortly afterwards returned with the intelligence' 
 that no messenger had called. * 
 
 Possibly of the three ladies Teresa felt most dis- 
 appointed by the non-arrival of the messenger from 
 her father's house. Though hardly admitting the 
 idea to herself, she had expected that Camille Gur- 
 don would call ; and although she probably would 
 not have admitted to herself that she bore any love 
 for the handsome young Swiss, yet a proof of it 
 might have been drawn from the fact that, now 
 there was the impression of coming danger over 
 her, her thoughts dwelt more on him than they 
 had hitherto done. After her return to the DucheSS 
 she sat for some time in a gloomy mood. Fortu^ 
 nately the Duchess was too much occupied with 
 her own thoughts to notice her, and after a short 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 6,1 
 
 time the young girl entered again fully into the 
 subject uppermost in the minds of the others. 
 
 Hour after hour passed, and still no messenger 
 came from the Judge. A sort of irritable feeling 
 now seemed gradually to come over Renee and 
 her companions as they sat silent and motionless. 
 Still no sound was heard, and the same silence 
 which existed in the cabinet of the Duchess seemed 
 to have been communicated to the officials of her 
 household, and they moved about the Palace on 
 their several duties, silent and speechless as spectres. 
 
 The bell was now heard ringing for midday 
 mass, and shortly after footsteps approached the 
 cabinet. Simultaneously the Duchess and her com- 
 panions glanced anxiously towards the door of the 
 room, as if expecting some communication. The 
 door opened, but the person who entered was only 
 the maj-or-domo of the Palace (himself a Protestant), 
 ^ who came to inform her Highness that dinner — 
 the principal meal of the day — was in readiness. 
 Ren^e was on the point of giving a somewhat 
 impatient answer, when, glancing at the major- 
 domo, she perceived on his countenance the same 
 expression of depression mixed with resignation 
 that she had noticed during the morning on the 
 faces or her two lady attendants. 
 
 " Carlo," she said kindly to him, '• I shall not 
 leave this room. Send up some slight refreshment 
 to us here, and that will be sufficient." 
 
 The man bowed and quitted the roorn, which he 
 shortly afterwards re-entered, followed by two ser- 
 vants carrying some refreshments. These thef 
 placed upon the table, and then at the order of the 
 Duchess retired from her presence. Seating them- 
 elves at the table, the ladies now made some 
 slight attempt to eat, which they did with their 
 minds so eompletely absorbed in other matters, 
 that when their repast was over, had they been 
 questioned what viands had been set before them, 
 they positively would not have been able to say. 
 
 Two hours more passed without any messenger 
 arriving from the Judge ; and it was now time for 
 the daily visit of the Princesses Lucrezia and 
 Eleanora to their mother. Possibly with the idea 
 of changing the terrible depression, the Duchess re- 
 quested Teresa to go to the apartments of the Prin- 
 cesses and inform them she was ready to receive 
 Jhem. Teresa immediately went on her mission. On 
 her way she passed one of the upper female ser- 
 i^ants employed about the persons of the Princesses. 
 
 She spoke civilly to her, but to her great sur- 
 prise the woman, instead of answering with the 
 unwilling civility she was in the habit of showing, 
 merely drew herself up, and after casting a super- 
 cilious glance at Teresa, crossed herself with great 
 devotion and passed on without uttering a word. 
 Greatly puzzled as well as mortified at the servant's 
 behaviour, and fearing that unconsciously she had 
 given her some cause of offence, Teresa was on the 
 point of going after her to ascertain the reason for 
 such behaviour, when she thought it might appear 
 undignified, and she continued her path forwards 
 till she had reached the room in which she was 
 
 accustomed to find the Princesses. It was, how- 
 ever, empty, much to her surprise. Thinking pos- 
 sibly she might have arrived too early, she seated 
 herself on a couch to await the entrance of 
 some one of whom she might ask information. 
 After remaining alone some minutes, the servant 
 whom she had met in the corridor entered the 
 room. Although Teresa rose from her seat and 
 advanced towards her, the woman, with the same 
 ill-tempered look, turned from her and was about 
 to leave the apartment. Teresa, determined not 
 to let her depart without receiving some infor- 
 mation, asked whether the Princesses would soon 
 be there. Finding she was obliged to reply, the 
 woman told her that the. Princesses had left the 
 Palace with Madonna Bonifazio and Sister Laura 
 about half an hour before. 
 
 " Do you expect it will be long before they re- 
 turn?" inquired Teresa. 
 
 " It is impossible for me to answer your question," 
 said the woman. " All I know is, that about an 
 hour ago they received a message from his High- 
 ness, and that shortly afterwards they left the 
 Palace. But I cannot stop longer talking with you," 
 she continued, "for on leaving the Palace Ma- 
 donna Bonifazio gave us orders that the dresses of 
 the Princesses were to be packed as soon as possible, 
 and we are now engaged in obeying her commands." 
 
 " But tell me," said Teresa, now dreadfully 
 alarmed, " if you know whether the Princesses are 
 going to either the Belriguardo or Belfiore Palace ? " 
 
 " Once more," said the woman, " I can give you 
 no information, nor can I remain longer talking to 
 you." So saying, she left the room. 
 
 Teresa, in great alarm, now returned to the 
 Duchess. Noticing the expression of fear on her 
 countenance, Rende asked her if she had received 
 bad news respecting Ochino. 
 
 " Worse than that," said Teresa. " Oh ! my 
 dear mistress, how shall I tell you the news ? His 
 Highness has sent a messenger for the Princesses, 
 and they have left the Palace." 
 
 "You do not mean to say," said Rende, now 
 starting from her chair in a state of intense terror, 
 "that they are not to return?" 
 
 " I know nothing more, your Highness," said 
 Teresa, the tears streaming down her face as she 
 spoke, " than what I have told you, and that their 
 dresses are being packed up to be sent after them." 
 
 Terrible indeed was the effect of Teresa's words 
 upon Rende. She had risen from her chair when 
 Teresa entered the room, but now she sank help- 
 lessly back in it, and remained for some moments 
 apparently in a state of unconsciousness. Tears at 
 last came to her relief, and she somewhat recovered 
 herself. 
 
 " It is impossible ! " she exclaimed, rising from 
 her seat. " They must have deceived you. They 
 can never have taken my children from me. They 
 could not be so cruel !" and then, suddenly chang- 
 ing the expression of her countenance to one of 
 deep anger, she said, " From whom did you receive 
 this tale, and why did you bring it to me when 
 
64 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 you must have known it to be false ? It is impos- 
 sible the Duke, my husband, could behave to me 
 with so much cruelty." 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness," said Teresa, " my 
 informant was one of the principal servants attend- 
 ing on the Princesses. She told me she was then 
 engaged, by the orders of Madonna Bonifazio, in 
 packing up their dresses, as they were not to return 
 to the Palace." 
 
 "You must have been deceived, child," said 
 Rende, now more mildly, and apparently utterly 
 unable to realise the truth.' " They must have de- 
 ceived you. I will go and question them myself." 
 
 " I fear you will hardly obtain much information 
 from the woman," said Teresa, " though she appears 
 to know all." ^ 
 
 " I am still a Princess of France and Duchess of 
 Ferrara," said Rende, advancing to the door with 
 great dignity in her manner, " and be obeyed I shall. 
 You, Ponte and Teresa, attend me," she continued, 
 and she left the room followed by the two ladies. 
 
 , CHAPTER XIII. — THE PROCLAMATION. 
 
 On arriving at the apartments of the Princesses 
 Ren^e found them empty, and she ordered Teresa 
 to summon the attendants. In a short time Teresa 
 found the woman she had before spoken to and a 
 man-servant, and she informed them the Duchess 
 wished to speak to them. At first the woman de- 
 murred with considerable rudeness in her marner, 
 but presently, thinking perhaps she might now have 
 an opportunit}- of showing disrespect to a heretic 
 Duchess, she consented, and, with the man, followed 
 Teresa into the room. 
 
 To Rente's inquiry where were the Princesses, 
 the woman replied that she did not know, and even 
 if she did she was not certain that she should be 
 justified in answering the question without orders. 
 
 "Are you aware to whom you are speaking?" 
 said Rende, with great dignity. " Answer me im- 
 mediately, where are the Princesses?" 
 
 " And once more," said the woman, " I refuse 
 to obey you without permission." 
 
 " Well," said Rende, " I shall ask you no furthei 
 question, but I promise you shall be dismissed and 
 punished severely for your impertinence." 
 
 " I'm periectly ready," said the woman, with an 
 air or humility in her countenance "to suffer in 
 the cause of our Holy Church." 
 
 The man-servant, however, who had hitherto been 
 silent, probably thinking that he might have beer 
 included in Rente's threat, and calculating that 
 although her Highness was then in disfavour, the 
 time might soon come when she would again resume 
 her power, corroborated the scanty information given 
 to Rende by the woman, assuring her that neither 
 he nor any of the servants knew more of the matter. 
 
 For some time Rende seemed to be in doubt, 
 and questioned the rrian, further, but at last came 
 to the conclusion he was speaking the truth, and, 
 without saying more, beckoned to her attendants, 
 and then left the room to proceed to lier own 
 apartments. On entering, the courage which had 
 
 hitherto sustained her completely vanished. Throw- 
 ing herself on a couch, and burying her face in her 
 hands, she burst into a violent flood of tears. 
 
 " May Heaven protect me, and grant me strength 
 and resignation, for my sorrows are more than I 
 can bear !" exclaimed the unliappy Duchess. "The 
 world seems to have abandoned me. My own hus- 
 band has turned against me, and my children have 
 forsaken me." 
 
 " But hope that Heaven will still assist your 
 Highness, and be not cast down," said Madonna 
 Ponte. "You have no reason to conclude that the 
 Princesses will not again return to the Palace." 
 
 "I tell you there is no hope," said Renee pas- 
 sionately. " Did you not hear the woman say that 
 even now the whole of their clothes are being packed 
 to be sent after them, and would that be the case if 
 there was the slightest probability of their return ? 
 No, -there is no hope. I shall never see them again." 
 
 "But surely. Madam," urged Madonna Ponte, 
 " that cannot be. The laws would never allow 
 them to be completely separated from you, even if 
 they were not allowed to reside with you in the 
 Palace. Why not apply to the law for protection ?" 
 
 " And to whom can I apply ?" said Rende, rising 
 to an erect position on her couch. " And who 
 would plead my cause ? Is there a man in the 
 whole city in whom I could confide without the 
 chance of being betrayed ?" 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness," said Teresa, " I 
 am sure my father may be trusted." 
 
 " True, my good girl, I had forgotten him. Par- 
 don me, for my sorrows make me almost distracted. 
 But your father, faithful as he has been to me and out 
 holy cause, has, I fear, no power left — nay, more, 
 will soon be among the number of the persecuted." 
 
 " Still, of that your Highness is not yet certain," 
 said Teresa. " Why not send to him and request 
 him to wait on you ? He may yet be able to give 
 you goo 1 advice." 
 
 Rende for some moments remained silent, evi- 
 dently turning over in her mind Teresa's suggestion. 
 
 "Possibly, my child," she at length said, "you 
 may be right, and your worthy father may still be 
 able to advise me. But what messenger can I 
 send to him who would not betray me?" 
 
 " If your Highness will allow me, and Madonna 
 Ponte will accompany me, I will take your message 
 myself If I find him, you may be certain he will 
 return with me." 
 
 " Go, my child, if you have courage, but return as 
 quickly as you can, for I shall feel desolate indeed 
 without you both, and shall count the minutes till 
 you come back. Be careful that no one knows tiie 
 object of your mission." 
 
 Madonna Ponte and Teresa now left the Duchess 
 and made preparations for their visit to the Judgeii 
 To prevent observation they folded their black sill|| 
 candales* over their heads in such a manner as to 
 
 * The candale was a tavounte article of dress among: -he Fcrraresl^ 
 and Venetian women ot' all classes, and remained in tasliion tor mors^/ 
 than two centuries. It was fastened in some mannerto die wuist.aira'i 
 then thrown over the head, covering, it' the wearer wished, a piirtiol^t 
 or the whole ot the features. Ic was as poweiful a weapon in i^v. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 6S 
 
 leave as little as possible of their features exposed 
 to view; and stealthily creeping down the stairs 
 leading to the postern at the back of the Palace, 
 they emerged into the street. 
 
 They pursued their way without inconvenience, 
 till near the angle of the Via del Pioppo'ni, in 
 which the Judge, Biagio Rosetti, resided, when 
 they were for some minutes obliged to take shelter 
 under a doorway to allow a troop of horse to 
 pass, arrayed in their gorgeous uniforms, one side 
 red, the other white (the Ducal colours), with 
 hats adorned with white flowing plumes, and the 
 captain of the guards at their head. They were 
 followed by a carriage surmounted by silken 
 hangings of the same colours, in which were seated 
 two men who appeared to be ecclesiastics, but who, 
 from the curtains being drawn, were hardly visible 
 to the crowd that surrounded it.* As soon as the 
 soldiers had passed, Teresa and her companion 
 pursued their way to the house of the Judge, which 
 they reached without difficulty, but found closed. 
 After waiting for some time, and using in vain every 
 means to make themselves heard, Teresa concluded 
 that her father must be at the Palace of Justice, and 
 being imwilling to return to the Duchess without 
 fully accomplishing their mission, she and Madonna 
 Ponte resolved to repair to the Court, hoping to 
 find some one who would inform the Judge that 
 they wished to speak with him. On arriving at tr.e 
 Palace of Justice they were again doomed to be 
 disappointed. Not only was it closed, but they were 
 informed that no causes had been heard that day. 
 They were now greatly embarrassed what further 
 steps to take. Teresa, in her anxiety, would wil- 
 lingly have set aside all maiden consideration, and 
 proposed to her companion that they should repair 
 to the lodging of Camille Gurdon, and inquire of 
 him whether he had heard any intelligence of her 
 father and Ochino ; but unfortunately she did not 
 know his address. 
 
 .Thoroughly dispirited, they now determined to 
 return to the Palace, but their attention was at- 
 tracted by a crowd who advanced across the Piazza, 
 accompanying a herald who was preceded by two 
 mace-bearers, and followed by a body of soldiers of 
 the municipal guard. On arriving at the Palace, 
 the herald and trumpeter quitted their escort, and, 
 catering the Palace, shortly after made their appear- 
 ance on a small balcony, known as the Ringiero, 
 opening on to the Piazza, and from which all gride or 
 proclamations of importance were first promulgated. 
 
 .The two mace-bearers having taken their place 
 below, and the escort of the municipal guard hav- 
 ing placed themselves around them to keep off the 
 crowd, who, anticipating from the unusual amount 
 <Jf ceremony observed, that some proclamation of 
 
 bands of a coquette as a fan with the Spanish ladies, Boeno in his 
 dictionary of tne Venetian dialect speaks of it with great enthusiasm, 
 as hiding blemishes in the ill-favoured, and setting off the charms of 
 the handsome to still greater advantage. " 11 che dare il potere vera 
 mf nte magico dj abbelire le brutte, e m tar vie maggiormenti speccare 
 le attrativ ■ delle belle. ' 
 
 * The carriage or caretta ot the time was an open vehicle more or 
 le^s ornamented, with posts at the comers connected at the top by 
 rails, from which hung curtains which could be drawn or left open at 
 thq fancy of tiie occupants'. 
 
 5 
 
 interest was about to be issued, had congre- 
 gated in great numbers. The interest felt by the 
 crowd had, notwithstanding their anxieties, com- 
 municated itself to Teresa and Madame Ponte, and, 
 drawing their candales closer over their faces, they 
 stood under the arcades in a position where they 
 could be but little seen, to hear the edict the herald 
 was about to pronounce. After the trumpeter had 
 given a flourish on his instrument so as to call the 
 attention of the hearers, and the mace-bearers had 
 ordered all to be silent, the herald proceeded to 
 unroll a scroll of parchment he held in his hand. 
 Then advancing to the extreme end of the balcony, 
 he read the somewhat lengthy proclamation he had 
 been intrusted with. 
 
 The edict stated that, inasmuch as his Highness 
 the Duke being aware that heresy had taken deep 
 root in his dominions, thereby causing the great 
 anger of Heaven, and wishing that all his subjects 
 should live in a pious and Christian manner after 
 the faith of the Holy Catholic Church, had deter- 
 mined to put the axe to the root of the evil, so that 
 the schism should no longer exist in his dominions, 
 nor the anger of Heaven be occasioned by any 
 laxity of his government. The edict then went on 
 to state that his Majesty the King of France had, in 
 the great interest he bore to the subjects of the 
 Duke and their spiritual welfare, sent to assist in 
 the good work the Reverend Father Oriz, Chief 
 Inquisitor of France, into whose hands for the 
 future the supreme jurisdiction of all matters relat- 
 ing to heresy in the city and Duchy of Ferrara 
 would be imphcitly placed ; and that his authority 
 would, in all subjects appertaining to heresy, be 
 the same as that of his Highness himself The 
 herald next proceeded to say that the Reverend 
 Father Oriz having received information that divers 
 persons attached to the Court of her Highness 
 the Duchess Rende weie grievously infected with 
 heresy, as well as many of the leading persons in 
 the city, he, by the authority in him placed, com- 
 manded all good Catholics and citizens to give 
 information to the Holy Office, so that they whose 
 names here follow may be arrested and given into 
 the custody of the Holy Office, that their cases may 
 be inquired into, and punishment inflicted oi^ those 
 who remained obstinate in their wickedness. And 
 furthermore, that all good Catholics were permitted 
 on their own authority to arrest, or, in case of re- 
 sistance, to beat, maltreat, or even slay the herein- 
 after named heretics, without thereby incurring any 
 punishment either from the Holy Office or the civil 
 authorities. 
 
 Then followed the names of twenty-four indivi- 
 duals, male and female, directly or indirectly at- 
 tached to the Court of her Highness, as well as 
 several persons of eminence in the city; and, to 
 their intense terror, Teresa and Madonna Ponte 
 recognised their own names, as well as that of the 
 Judge Biagio Rosetti. 
 
 For some moments the two women remained so 
 completely horror-stricken as to be unable to move 
 from the spot on which they were standing. Teresa 
 
66 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 was the first to collect her senses, and leading her 
 companion away by the arm, and whispering to her 
 to draw her cdndale closer over her face so that 
 they might not be recognised, they entered a nar- 
 row street in a direction exactly opposite to that of 
 the Palace of San Francesco. Finding herself clear 
 of the crowd, Teresa was on the point of stopping 
 to take into consideration what step they had better 
 adopt, when she noticed a respectably dressed 
 woman apparently watching her and Madonna 
 Ponte. Fearing discovery, Teresa again drew her 
 almost helpless companion onwards — helpless from 
 the state of extreme terror she was in — and was 
 walking rapidly forward, when she heard the foot- 
 steps of some one swiftly following them. She 
 again hastened her steps, but the person folloj^ing 
 soon overtook them, and Teresa, by a frightened 
 side-glance, perceived that it was the woman she 
 had before noticed. She now made room for her 
 to pass, but the woman approaching closely to the 
 side of the trembling girl, whispered in her ear, 
 clearly and distinctly, in the Italian language — 
 
 " ' Be strong and of good courage ; fear not, 
 neither be afraid of them ; for the Lord thy God, 
 He it is that doth go with thee, He will not fail 
 thee nor forsake thee.' " 
 
 Teresa regarded the woman with astonishment, 
 not unmixed with anxiety. She felt that she was 
 actuated by a friendly feeling; and she judged by 
 her quoting the Scriptures in her native language 
 that she was a Protestant, but fearing she might be 
 a spy, she made no remark, and the woman con- 
 tinued — 
 
 " 'And the Lord, He it is that doth go before thee ; 
 He will be with thee. He will not fail thee, neither 
 forsake thee ; fear not, neither be dismayed.'" 
 
 Both Teresa and Madonna Ponte looked at the 
 woman, and the latter now thought she recognised 
 her as having been formerly a servant of the 
 Duchess, but who had married and quitted the 
 palace several years before. 
 
 " Are you a Protestant?" she asked her. 
 
 " I was, and am still one in my heart," replied 
 the woman, " though I have bowed my head in the 
 house of Rimmon. May God forgive me, and 
 look with mercy on me, for I had great temptation. 
 But tell me, did you not hear the proclamation in 
 the Piazza?" 
 
 " But too well," answered Teresa. " Can you 
 help us back to the Palace?" 
 
 " It is impossible. If you' attempt it, you will 
 be immediately discovered and arrested." 
 
 " Can you, shelter us ? " asked Ponte. " I will 
 amply recompense you if you do." 
 
 " I dare not," said the woman. " A priest 
 lodges in my house who would recognise you, and 
 immediately denounce me for sheltering heretics. 
 The only place I know of where you will be safe — 
 and even that is uncertain-^is at the house of a 
 poor widow, who resides outside the walls, in the 
 Borgo di Mizzano, near the river. She, I know, 
 would shelter you, but she is blind and poor, and 
 her accommodat;on is of the smallest." 
 
 " Lead us anywhere you please," said Ponte, " so 
 that we may be safe for a time, and be able to 
 collect our thoughts. I will pay both you and the 
 poor wornan well for your trouble." 
 
 " Follow me, then, at a distance, but do not 
 lose sight of me," said the stranger. " If we are 
 seen together it may arouse suspicion, and we 
 might all get arrested if you are recognised." 
 
 •So saying, she walked on quickly in front, Teresa 
 and Madonna Ponte following at a short distance. 
 
 The Woman pursued her road onward in a 
 westerly direction till she had passed the city gates, 
 and had come within a short distance of the river. 
 Here she suddenly slackened her pace to allow the 
 others to overtake her. When they came up to 
 her, she said — 
 
 " In the small house before us resides the poor 
 widow of whom I spake to you. But I must warn 
 you the accommodation she can offer is of the 
 poorest description." 
 
 " No matter," said Ponte, " how miserable it 
 may be. And, as I told you before, if she gives us 
 safe shelter, I shall remunerate her handsomely.'' 
 
 " A Uttle will well content her," replied the 
 woman. " A zechin would almost last her for a 
 year. Now follow me as before at a distance, and 
 when you see me enter the house remain where you 
 are until I leave it. Take no notice of me, but then 
 enter yourselves, and you will find the poor widow 
 ready to receive you." 
 
 The stranger then quitted them and walked on 
 to the house, which she entered, and shortly after- 
 wards left again. Then making a sign to Teresa 
 that she could advance, she continued her road in 
 a contrary direction, and the two fugitives without 
 hesitation sought the welcome shelter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. — THE BUND SAMARITAN. 
 
 Unfavourable as was the description given of 
 the house Teresa and Madonna Ponte were about 
 to seek shelter in, it hardly came up to the reality. 
 It might more properly have been termed an isolated ' 
 hovel half-way between the city walls and the ferry 
 leading to the Boschetto, of which we shall speak 
 more at length presently. The house was con- 
 structed of dried clay mixed with bricks, and roofed 
 with reeds. It consisted of only one room, and a 
 large sort of slip or closet separated from it in the 
 rear. There was no window to the house, light 
 being admitted into the room only by the door; 
 and a small opening in the wall behind afforded a 
 certain amount of ventilation. The inside was not 
 more attractive than the outside. A bed, or rather 
 mattress of some course texture, and stuffed with 
 dried rushes, a small dilapidated table, a common 
 wooden stool, one or two earthem cooking utensils 
 of the roughest description, two wooden platters 
 with spoons of the same material, and a horn 
 drinking-mug, with a coarse earthern charcoal-pan 
 in the centre of the room, appeared to comprise 
 the whole of the furniture. 
 
 On entering, Teresa and Madonna Ponte found 
 the occupant of the house ready to receive them. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 67 
 
 Though aged and blind, her appearance was 
 attractive and prepossessing in the extreme. She 
 was tall, exceedingly pale, with delicate, finely- 
 formed features, and an intelligent expression, not- 
 withstanding her loss of sight. Her grey hair, 
 which was turned back from her face, was collected 
 in a white ctiffia (a head-dress half-cap, half-bag), 
 and formed a strong contrast to her gown, which 
 was of a dark colour, reaching straight from her 
 throat to her feet, and without any girdle or other 
 confinement at the waist. Leaning with her two 
 hands on a staff which reached higher than her 
 shoulder (for she suffered from lameness as well as 
 from loss of sight), and holding her head erect 
 almost to stiffness, in the manner so frequently 
 observed in blind people, she said, with consider- 
 able dignity — 
 
 " Enter, ladies ; you are welcome to whatever 
 little shelter 1 can afford you ; and fear not, for poor 
 as my home is, you have yet a Protector who can 
 make it a stronger defence than the castle itself. 
 For is it not written, ' The Lord will be a refuge 
 for the oppressed, a refuge in time of trouble ? ' I 
 have," she continued, " little to offer you beyond 
 shelter, and sacred trust in keeping your secret." 
 
 " But, mother," said Ponte in despair, " can you 
 not help us further? for otherwise we shall soon 
 be discovered." 
 
 " I will help you in every way in my power," said 
 the woman, " and all other persons suffering for 
 righteousness' sake. But from what you may see 
 around, you may easily judge how little I have in 
 my power." 
 
 " Can you not find us a messenger in whom we 
 could trust?" asked Teresa. 
 
 "Were my son Gerolamo here," replied the 
 woman, "he would willingly execute any commission 
 for you, and I expect he will shortly return. But 
 first let me hear what is your wish, for he is my 
 only son, and I would not ask him to undertake 
 anything that would bring him into danger." 
 
 " All I wish to know," said Teresa, " is whether 
 my father, the Judge Biagio Rosetti, has returned 
 home, and if so, to let him know where we are, 
 and request him immediately to come to us. You 
 could surely have no objection to your son under- 
 taking an errand of this kind, especially as we will 
 remunerate him well for the trouble." 
 
 "Willingly shall he assist you," replied the 
 woman, with much animation in her tone, " and on 
 him you can rely. Both of us, I can assure you, 
 would run great risk in aiding a child of the Judge 
 Rosetti, and in this respect you are fortunate in 
 being able to get my son's assistance. In a case 
 like yours every true Catholic would think he was 
 doing God service in betraying you." 
 
 " Both you and your son are Protestants, then ? " 
 inquired Madonna Ponte. 
 
 " I am," said the woman, " and so is my son in 
 heart, though not in name. He hides his real 
 creed from the world, and admits himself a Papist, 
 solely that he may have, the power of supporting 
 bis mother." 
 
 "And have you the courage to admit," said 
 Ponte indignantly, " that you allowed your son to 
 quit the faith that he might be the better able to 
 support you?" 
 
 " I would far sooner have perished of starvation 
 or in the dungeons of the Holy Office, than that 
 he should have done so to support me," replied the 
 woman, " if I had had a voice in the matter. You may 
 judge by my age and infirmities that my position in 
 life has not so many charms to make me sacrifice 
 the soul of my only son in order to linger on a few 
 days longer. He did it without my knowledge." 
 
 " Then why did you not advise him to follow the 
 example of St. Peter, who after he had denied his 
 Master repented and acknowledged Him again ? " 
 
 The woman remained silent for a moment, and 
 then said pointedly to Madonna Ponte, " Are you a 
 mother?" 
 
 " I have been the mother of four children," said 
 Ponte, " but the Lord has taken them all, and I 
 am childless." 
 
 " Then ask yourself the - question," said the 
 woman, " were you in my place, with an only son, 
 the last left to you of eight, and whom you loved a 
 thousand times better than life itself, how would 
 you act ? Look around you and tell me if anything 
 can render life less attractive than that you see. 
 Poverty and misery are my constant bedfellows; 
 sickness and death stare me in the face. Friends 
 and relatives I have none save that one son. 
 The love I bear him shuts out from me all the mis- 
 fortunes I have suffered, and the sorrow I am suf- 
 fering. How then can I advise him to brave the 
 Inquisition and acknowledge himself what they 
 term a relapsed heretit^ leaving but a step between 
 him and death by the hand of the executioner? 
 Would you, if you were in my place, advise him to 
 trust himself to the mercy of the Inquisitor ? But 
 no, I will not ask you to answer my question. The 
 God of mercy has looked with pity on worse faults 
 than this of mine. You do not know the circum- 
 stances connected with our history, or you would 
 not have judged so harshly. But. you told me one of 
 you was the daughter of the Judge Biagio Rosetti." 
 
 " I am his- daughter," said Teresa. " Do you 
 know him, then?" 
 
 " Yes, for a God-fearing man, an honest Judge, 
 a friend of the poor, the widow, and the orphan. 
 Do not think me wanting in respect if I ask you 
 to approach me that I may know you better." 
 
 Teresa, without hesitation, advanced towards her. 
 The blind woman then letting the staff on which 
 she had leant fall in the hollow of her arm, first 
 placed her left hand on Teresa's shoulder, as if 
 to ascertain the position she was in, and then 
 attempted to pass her right hand over her features. 
 Finding her face covered in great part with the 
 candale she wore, the woman said to her — 
 
 " Oblige me by uncovering your face, that I may 
 better know your features, and how far you re- 
 semble your father." 
 
 Teresa at once threw back the candale from her 
 face, and the woman passed the index and second 
 
68 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 finger (those eyes of the blind) over the young 
 girl's face, but so lightly that she would hardly have 
 brushed the pollen from a flower, preserving the 
 while an appearance of deep thought, as if endea- 
 vouring to conjure up some reminiscence of the 
 past. Her examination being completed, the 
 woman said to Teresa — 
 
 '' You strongly resemble your father, my child." 
 "Are you acquainted with him, then?" 
 " I have seen him often," said the woman, evad- 
 ing the question, "and have good reason to re- 
 member his features. But I hear the footsteps of 
 some one approaching," she continued, detecting 
 through the increased sensibility of hearing, occa- 
 sioned by the loss of sight, sounds which were 
 inaudible to others. " They are doubtless^my 
 son's, and he will willingly go on the errand you 
 require." 
 
 A few moments after the woman had spoken, 
 the door opened. Perplexed as Ponte and Teresa 
 were with the difficulties which surrounded them, 
 they could not refrain from regarding the new- 
 comer with great curiosity, so singular was his 
 appearance. He was about forty years of age, 
 of middle height, with an open intelligent coun- 
 tenance. The dress he wore, however, was sin- 
 gular in the extreme. Over a leather guippone, 
 somewhat resembling a doublet, he wore a coarse 
 black garment, in shape like a herald's tabard. 
 On this was painted, both back and front, a white 
 cross, reaching from the throat to the black leather 
 belt at his waist. On his head he wore a black 
 hood, without any mark or device on it, which fell 
 ever his shoulders, and was fastened by a strap 
 under his chin. His legs were encased in strong, 
 dark-coloured, knitted trousers, which fitted closely 
 and covered his feet like a stocking. A coarse 
 piece of untanned leather protected the sole of the 
 foot, and was fastened to the instep and ankles 
 with straps somewhat like those of sandals. In 
 his right hand he cairied a bell, and in his left a 
 small banner made of coarse black cloth, on the 
 centre of which was painted, in white, a death's 
 head, and on each side of it the crest of the muni- 
 cipal arms of Ferrara. The man seemed greatly 
 surprised at seeing two ladies in his mother's house, 
 but by no means abashed. First placing the bell 
 on the table, and then taking off his black hood, he 
 kissed his mother, and, turning to the ladies, said — 
 " Pardon me, Isdies^ for appearing before you in 
 this costume, but uninviting as it may appear, I had 
 no little difficulty in obtaining the privilege to wear 
 it. Mother," he continued, turning to the old 
 woman, and speaking in a tone of bitter sarcasm, 
 "I have this day received the honour of being 
 appointed banner-carrier to the Beaamorte* of the 
 parish of Mizzano, and have not only been in- 
 structed in my duties, but have received ray uniform, 
 which I now wear." Then, scarcely in an audible 
 whisper, he added, " Fortunate for you perhaps that 
 you cannot see it." 
 
 * A name given in derision to persons employed by the municipality 
 during the visitation of the plague. 
 
 "What duties have you to perform, my son?" 
 " They are few and simple in the extreme," he 
 replied. " I have only to walk before the mortuary-- 
 cart with my banner in one hand and ringing a bell 
 with the other, to warn people to bring out their 
 dead or sick." 
 
 " Is the plague then in Ferrara?" inquired Ponte. 
 
 " The doctors have reported, Excellenza, that 
 two cases have occurred already, and the Govern- 
 ment has ordered the Lazaretto on the Boschetto 
 Island, on the opposite side of the river, to be 
 prepared to receive the plague-stricken, should any 
 other cases occur. For the future, mother, my 
 residence will be there till all danger has subsided." 
 
 The old woman sighed when she heard the sad 
 duties her son had to perform. 
 
 "There are strange changes in this world, my 
 son," she said ; " but it is better to earn bread at 
 any honest occupation, than remain involuntarily 
 idle, and eat that of charity. But," .she continued, 
 " these ladies, who hold the Reformed faith as 
 taught by the pious Professor John Calvin, having 
 heard the proclamation to-day which denounced 
 them and many others as heretics, have been 
 brought here by one to whom we owe much, for us 
 to give them shelter and assistance." 
 
 " And we do not ask you to assist us gratui- 
 tously," said Madonna Ponte, "we will amply recom- 
 pense you for any assistance you may render us." 
 
 " Any assistance I Can give you is at your service, 
 ladies," he replied, with a courtesy of manner 
 strangely inconsistent with the humble office he 
 held. " It must be understood, however, that I am- 
 not required to do anything contrary to the law. 
 Not that in your case I should personally have much 
 compunction in outstepping it a little, but there is 
 another life depending on rriine, which I am most 
 unwilling to place in any danger." 
 
 The old woman easily understood. 
 
 " And grateful indeed am I to Heaven, my son, 
 for the love you bear me," said the old woman ; 
 " but think not of me in this instance. These 
 ladies," she continued, noticing the embarrassed 
 silence maintained by Ponte and Teresa, in reply 
 to her son's remark, " these ladies are attendants 
 on the Duchess Ren^e, and one of them is a 
 daughter of the Judge Biagio Rosetti." 
 
 " I am under too much obligation to the Judge 
 not to willingly assist his daughter in any way in 
 my power," was the man's answer. " Once more, 
 ladies, what can I do to serve you ?" 
 
 " I wish you," said Teresa, " to go to my father's 
 house, on the Via del Piopponi, and inquire if he is 
 within, and bring him back with you if possible. 
 Should he be unable to come at once, ask him to 
 follow you as quickly as he can. If you are not 
 able to find him, ascertain, if possible, from any of 
 the neighbours if they know the address of Caraille 
 Gurdon, a Swiss la^vyer, and a great friend of my 
 father's. Should you obtain it, call on him and ask 
 him to come to my assistance." 
 
 " I will, and with pleasure," said Gerolamo ; " but 
 first let me take off this livery, or I shall find it 
 
•THE MAN SEEMED GREATLY SURPRISED AT SEEING TWO LADIES.' 
 
 Page «8. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 7i 
 
 difficult to obtain an answer from any one I may 
 speak to." So saying, he took off his tabard, and 
 after placing that and his cap, with the banner 
 and belt, in a corner of the hut, he left, promising 
 to return as soon as possible. 
 
 It took less than ten minutes for Gerolamo to 
 arrive at the comer of the Via del Piopponi; in- 
 deed, so rapidly had he run, that he was com- 
 pletely out of breath. He now slackened his pace, 
 examining the houses as he passed, being uncertain 
 which was the one where the Judge lived. Then 
 seeing a crowd of people gathered round a gate- 
 way, he advanced to make inquiries. He found 
 them in a state of great excitement, pressing forward 
 
 towards the entrance, while several men of the 
 municipal guards endeavoured to keep them back, 
 partly with entreaties and partly by force, occasion- 
 ally letting the but-end of their halberds fall some- 
 what severely on the toes of the most advanced of 
 the mob. The excitement and curiosity which 
 actuated the crowd for a moment communicated 
 itself to Gerolamo, and he also pressed forward, 
 though with but little success. He was on the 
 point of asking what was going on, when an old 
 man beside him placed one hand on his shoulder, 
 and the other on that of another bystander, and 
 leaped upwards so that he might be able to see 
 over the heads of the crowd. 
 
 " 1 can see nothing,'' said the old man, as he 
 took his hand from Gerolamo's shoulder. " But 
 no matter, they will bring him out presently." 
 
 " Who is it you are looking for ? " 
 
 "For the heretic Judge Biagio Rosetti. Don't 
 you know he was denounced as a pig of a Calvinist 
 m the proclamation to-day?" 
 
 " Yes," said Gerolamo, " I heard that. Is this 
 his house, then ?" 
 
 " Yes, it is, and I hope he is in it," replied the 
 old man, who was no other than Carlo Pedretti, 
 introduced to the reader in the first chapter as 
 the guide of Ochino on the evening he entered the 
 city in the disguise of a Capuchin Friar. " 1 hope 
 he is in the house," the old man continued, "for it 
 
 would give me immense satisfaction to see him 
 carried off prisoner. But no matter if they don't 
 find him now, the Holy Office are at his heels, and 
 he will be cunning indeed if he escape them." 
 
 " He seems to be no favourite of yours," said 
 Gerolamo. 
 
 "Favourite of mine !" exclaimed the old man. 
 " No, indeed ! I hate him as much as the arch 
 fiend hates holy water. Did not he order a relative 
 of mine to be flogged and imprisoned because he 
 took something from a Jew? No wonder, indeed ! 
 A heretic himself, he naturally took the part of 
 the Jew against the Christian. But he'll have his 
 reward for it now. His day has come at last" 
 
72 
 
 THE STRUGGLE TN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. — GEROLAMO.S QUEST. 
 
 MOVEMENT 
 
 now took 
 place in the 
 crowd to allow 
 some persons 
 leaving the 
 house to pass 
 through. Ge- 
 rolanio and 
 the old man 
 retired to the 
 other side of 
 the street, 
 and the latter 
 stood on a 
 large stone by 
 one of the 
 houses to be 
 better able to 
 see what was 
 going forward. 
 Presently two 
 of the muni- 
 cipal guard with an official of the Holy Office, 
 clad in his white robe and large black cape, and 
 carrying a number of books and papers, came 
 from the house. Shortly afterwards the gates were 
 closed, two -of the soldiers remaining outside to 
 prevent any one from entering. 
 
 " No luck," said the old man to an ill-looking 
 acquaintance who then approached him, " no luck. 
 The heretic has escaped, but his hour-glass has 
 nearly run itself out. But whither away so fast, old 
 friend?" he continued. "We have not met for 
 many a long day." 
 
 " I cannot stay,'' said the other, " for I want to 
 see what's going forward at the Palace of San 
 Francesco. They say it is surrounded, by the 
 soldiers of the Duke's guard, and tliat the Duchess 
 and all her heretic attendants are to be arrested 
 and conveyed to the prisons of the Holy Office." 
 
 " The Duchess to be arrested ?" said Pedretti. 
 " That is indeed good news. Wait one minute, old 
 friend," he continued, descending from the stone 
 on which he had been standing, " wait a moment, 
 and I will go with you." 
 
 " And I will go also," said Gerolamo. " This 
 will be a sight worth seeing." And the three then 
 started off together. 
 
 " If this is really true," said Pedretti, " it will in- 
 deed be a glorious day for the Church. If the 
 Duchess and her followers are taken, it will be some 
 compensation for the escape of the Judge." 
 
 " No matter, he will soon be taken," said the 
 other, " and glad indeed shall I be when 1 hear it. 
 I have never forgiven him for allowing that horrible 
 ■witch Marta Curioni to escape. That proves what 
 a heretic he is in his heart." 
 
 " I don't remember her case," said Gerolamo, 
 
 I wishing to appear on friendly terms with his com- 
 panions. 
 
 I " Not heard of it ! " said the other. " Why a more 
 I infamous act of treason to our Church was never 
 perpetrated." 
 
 Pedretti and the other man, passing a little chapel 
 at the angle of the street, before which a lamp was 
 burning, here crossed themselves devoutly. 
 
 " But you did not cross yourself," said the man, 
 " when you passed the chapel of the Holy Saint 
 Sebastiano." (Here he crossed himself again) "Are 
 you a heretic ? " 
 
 " I ?" said Gerolamo. " No, indeed ! I was 
 listening anxiously to what you were about to say, 
 and I did not see the chapel. Mm culpa. I will 
 not fail to mention my fault when next I go to con- 
 fession. But proceed with your tale." 
 
 " Well, then, my cousin Beppo had a sister who 
 kept a wine-shop near the gate of the castle Fedaldo. 
 As she was a widow with a family of children, she 
 could not pay the business as much attention as it 
 required, and besides that, she sometimes had very 
 difficult customers to deal with, whom none but a 
 man could manage. Then again she had naturally 
 a great disgust for the trade, and would have given it 
 up, only she had nothing else to live by. Fortunately 
 for her, however, her brother not only knew the 
 trade well, but liked it. He was just the man for 
 it, being a tall powerful fellow, about forty years of 
 age, strong as a bull, and brave as a lion. He was 
 a capital tempered fellow, too, and was as fond of a 
 glass as any of his customers. In fact, it's very 
 likely the quantity he drank made a great hole in 
 the profits, but as the business had increased vastly 
 since he had the management of it, the loss he 
 occasioned was more than compensated for by the 
 great increase of customers he drew to the house. 
 Beppo, you should understand, did not live at the 
 wine-shop, but, after business, used to go back to 
 his own house about a quarter of a mile off, where 
 he had a wife and two children, and, I must add, 
 it very often took him pretty well an hour to reach 
 it, in consequence, as he said, of a weakness he 
 had in his legs. Well, near Beppo there lived an 
 old woman that everybody said was a witch, be- 
 cause she was always grumbling and talking to her- 
 self. Now this old woman had taken a great dislike 
 to Beppo for being what she called a drunkard, and 
 Beppo had taken as great a dislike to her for her 
 impertinence. 
 
 " One morning — Beppo having returned home 
 late the night before, and certainly intoxicated— the 
 old woman saw him as he was going to the wine-shop, 
 and muttering something to him which he could not 
 hear, she raised the staff' she. leant upon and shook 
 it in his face. Beppo, who was out of humour that 
 morning, went up to her and said, 'What are you 
 shaking your crutch at me for, you old hag ? If you 
 don't mind what you re about, I will get all the boys 
 in the Borgo and we'll make a bonfire of you. You 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 73 
 
 ought to have been burnt long ago for a witch as 
 you are.' The old woman now got into a great 
 passion, and shook her staff at him, and told him 
 she would be revenged on him, old woman as she 
 was. She'd soon put a stop to his impertinence. 
 
 "Well, although Beppo snapped his fingers at 
 her threat, he felt an uneasy fcehng come over him, 
 which increased as he went on. In fact, so painful 
 did it become, that when he had got to the wine- 
 shop he was obliged to fill a horn mug with the 
 strongest wine he could get, and drink it off to 
 strengthen himself. Although it did good at the 
 time, the effects soon wore off, and he was obliged 
 to take some more. Strange enough, he could not 
 shake off the old woman's threat, though he was a 
 bold man generally, and he felt she was working 
 him some evil. Well, after drinking on for some 
 time, he couldn't get rid of the feeling, and he called 
 his sister, and told her he wanted her to look after 
 the shop, as he didn't feel well, and was going 
 home. She asked what was the matter with him, 
 and he said he felt as if he was bewitched, and that 
 the old woman who lived opposite to him had done 
 it. Bidding some friends who were drinking ' good- 
 bye,' he left the house, but before he had reached 
 half the distance home he fell senseless on the 
 ground. Fortunately a man was passing at the 
 time who knew him, and he carried him to his 
 house and placed him on his bed. 
 
 " And now a change came over him. From being 
 quite silent and helpless, he struck out in a red 
 flush all over, his face swelled, and the perspira- 
 tion poured off it. Then he began to talk in a 
 wild manner and start up in bed, and to beg his 
 wife and others to protect him from the rats 
 that were in his room running about, chasing 
 each other sometimes down the side of the room, 
 sometimes over the bed, and even across his 
 face. Of course his wife and friends, after being 
 very much puzzled to know what was the matter 
 with him, now became dreadfully frightened. That 
 the rats were in the room and galloping about, as 
 he said, was certain, for he saw them, and there 
 could be no doubt that he spoke the truth, for 
 the terror and alarm on his face proved it. At 
 last somebody said he was evidently bewitched. 
 They had heard the old woman, Marta Curioni, 
 in the morning threaten to be revenged, and no 
 
 doubt she had bewitched him. 
 
 " They now sent for a priest to exorcise the evil 
 
 spirit. He came, and at first didn't do much good, 
 
 but gradually Beppo got quieter, and at last died as 
 
 easy as if he'd been going to sleep." 
 
 "Well," said Carlo Pedretti, "I've heard the 
 
 thing mentioned before, but not the particulars. 
 
 If ever there was a case of witchcraft, that was 
 
 one." 
 
 "So every one thought, and the old woman was 
 
 seized and brpught up before the Judge Rosetti. 
 
 The witnesses were called, who proved everything 
 
 as I told you, but the Judge wouldn't beheve the 
 
 old woman guilty, and released her." 
 ."Ah ! that wouldn't have occurred in -the pre- 
 
 sent day," said Pedretti. "The Holy Office is 
 properly managed now. Father Oriz is at its head, 
 and he's a very different man from Father Fabrizio. 
 Witchcraft would no longer be left to the Judges to 
 punish ; the Holy Office will take that under its 
 management." 
 
 They had now arrived at the street leading to 
 the Palace of San Francesco, when their passage 
 was stopped by some soldiers of the guard, who 
 would not allow any persons to enter the street, 
 giving short and uncivil answers to those who ques- 
 tioned them on the subject. Finding a crowd had 
 collected at the entrance to the street, Gerolamo 
 asked if it would be possible to reach the Palace 
 by any other way. He received lor answer that it 
 would be impossible, every approach being blocked 
 up by the military, and no one was allowed to pass. 
 He now inquired why the thoroughfare was stopped, 
 and was informed that the Holy Office had takert 
 possession of the Palace, and that many of its 
 inmates had already been removed to prison. It was 
 also reported that the Duchess Rende would be 
 arrested. Whether this was true or no, they could 
 not say. Certainly she had not yet left the Palace. 
 
 The words had hardly escaped the man's lips 
 when a stir was observable in the crowd, and a 
 carretta (the same spoken of in the last chapter) 
 was seen approaching, surrounded by many horse- 
 men, who drove the crowd as far away from the 
 carriage as possible. Who were its occupants it 
 was impossible to say, for the curtains were closely 
 drawn. The carriage and escort now took the 
 road which led to the castle, and the crowd at- 
 tempted to follow, in hope of seeing who were its 
 occupants. But in this they were disappointed, 
 for the mounted soldiers now formed a line across 
 the street, and prohibited any one from following, 
 while other soldiers proceeded to drive away those 
 few who had managed to pass the line. 
 
 Gerolamo, having now quitted his companions, 
 made another attempt to reach the Palace of San 
 Francesco. This time he was more successful, but 
 he found it surrounded by soldiers, who, the mo- 
 ment any one stopped and cast a glance at the 
 building, immediately ordered them to walk on. 
 Gerolamo again attempted to enter into conversa- 
 tion with one of the soldiers, but he merely received 
 a surly reply, implying that he had better mind his 
 own business, and not ask impertinent questions, or 
 it would be the worse for him. 
 
 Perceiving it would be useless to make any 
 further attempt to gain information at the Palace, 
 Gerolamo returned to the Via del Piopponi, in- 
 tending to make another effort to enter the house 
 of the Judge. When he arrived at it, however, he 
 found the door closed, and two sullen-looking sen- 
 tinels standing before it. He now made some 
 inquiries of different inhabitants of the street as 
 to whether they could inform him where a Swiss 
 lawyer of the name of Camille Gurdon resided. 
 The answers, however, were of the most unsatis- 
 factory description. No one knew him, or had 
 ever heard of his name, and Gerolamo had now 
 
74 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 no other course to adopt than to return, after a 
 fruitless errand, to his mother's house. 
 
 On entering the door both Teresa and Madonna 
 Ponte rushed to receive him, and hear what in- 
 teUigence he had brought. He narrated calmly 
 the particulars of his unsatisfactory mission. He 
 told them that though the Judge had fortunately 
 escaped, yet his house had been ransacked by the 
 officers of the Holy Inquisition, the doors closed, 
 and sentinels placed over it. He had endeavoured 
 to reach the Palace of San Francesco, but had been 
 impeded by the soldiers. He had, however, learnt 
 that all the attendants of her Highness had already 
 been arrested and carried to prison, and he had 
 every reason to believe the Duchess was also re- 
 moved from the Palace. He had certainly* seen 
 a carriage surrounded by soldiers, and evidently 
 guarded with great caution, which was supposed 
 to contain the Duchess, but the curtains were so 
 completely closed it was impossible to see who 
 was inside, nor could he tell its destination, as no 
 one was allowed to follow it. 
 
 Teresa asked if he had inquired for Camille Gur- 
 don. Gerolamo replied that he had, but was un- 
 able to obtain any informatiop whatever respecting 
 him. In fact, no one seemed to know him. 
 
 Teresa and Madonna Ponte now completely 
 sank under the terrible intelligence they had re- 
 ceived. It was, however, a great satisfaction to 
 Teresa to hear her father had escaped, but Ponte 
 fairly cried aloud, exclaiming, " We are lost, and 
 have no one to help us !" 
 
 It was now the old blind woman's turn to re- 
 monstrate with Ponte. She said to her, " Be not 
 cast down, nor give up hope, for it is unwomanly. 
 It would be much better for you to pray to the Lord 
 for help. 'Remember his words spoken by the 
 prophet Isaiah, 'When thou passest through the 
 waters, I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, 
 they shall not overflow thee : when thou walkest 
 through the fire, thou shalt not be burned : neither 
 shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the 
 Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.' " 
 
 Although the words of the poor woman might have 
 had some effect in calming the sorrow of Teresa, 
 they fell unheard on the ear of Madonna Ponte. 
 
 " You had better put off attempts at consolation, 
 mother," said Gerolamo, "till the first burst of 
 grief is over. You must now think for a moment on 
 more common-place subjects. What provision do 
 you intend making for these ladies for the night?" 
 
 "What provision can I make?" said the old 
 woman. " I have not a soldi to purchase neces- 
 saries, and there is nothing but bread in the house." 
 
 Teresa heard the woman's remark. Placing her 
 hand in her pocket, she drew from it her purse, and 
 gave Gerolamo a gold ducat, requesting him to get 
 whatever he thought necessary. Having received 
 from his mother a list of things that would be 
 required, he again left the house, and returned to it 
 shortly afterwards, bringing with him the purchases 
 he had made. 
 
 Arrangements were now completed for passing 
 
 the night, which was rapidly advancing. Teresa 
 and Madonna Ponte were to occupy the bed in 
 the front room, and the old woman that in the slip 
 behind it. All being in readiness, Gerolamo again 
 put on his lugubrious uniform, and, taking up the 
 bell and banner, kissed his mother, and, wish- 
 ing the ladies good night, quitted the house. Pro- 
 ceeding to the ferry, he crossed over to the quarters 
 which had been assigned to the Beccamorte in 
 the Lazaretto. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. GIACOMO THE FERRYMAN. 
 
 Although Ochino, when he quitted the Palace 
 of San Francesco in the evening after his interview 
 with Pelletario, contrived to arrive at the house of 
 the Judge without difficulty, on more than one 
 occasion he imagined he was watched by spies. 
 Whether he had any good reason for the suspicion 
 it would be impossible to say, for no one spoke to 
 him or offered him the slightest interruption; still 
 he thought he saw several who appeared to be 
 watching him with great attention, and one even 
 seemed to follow him pertinaciously for some dis- 
 tance. When Ochino had arrived at the corner 
 of the Via del Piopponi, in which Rosetti's house 
 was situated, he stopped for a moment to con- 
 sider whether it would not be prudent to take x 
 more circuitous road before entering, .30 as to throw 
 the person who was following, should he be a spy, 
 off the scent. Before deciding, however, he cast i 
 glance behind him, to ascertain whether the man 
 had also halted, but no one was to be seen, and so 
 suddenly had he disappeared, that the idea crossed 
 Ochino's mind that he must have concealed him- 
 self in the doorway of a house, or behind some 
 projection. So fully was he convinced that this 
 was the case, that he retraced his steps for some 
 distance, but without being able to find any one; 
 not a soul could he see, and the streets appeared 
 utterly deserted. 
 
 His mind now more at ease, Ochino returned 
 toward the Via del Piopponi, and reached the house 
 of the Judge fully convinced that no one was watch- 
 ing him. Having carefully felt his way up the 
 dark staircase as far as the first-floor, he tapped 
 softly at the -door to avoid arousing the attention of 
 any other inmates of the house. He forgot at the 
 moment that Rosetti had informed him, that he 
 was in the habit of sending his servants to their 
 homes in the evening, so as to be able to receive 
 the visit of a friend without any one being aware 
 of it. The Judge understood too well the machi- 
 nations of the Inquisition not to know that the 
 house of every Protestant of any standing in Fer- 
 rara had a spy especially appointed to watch it. . 
 
 Ochino waited for some time, anxiously hoping 
 to hear the footsteps of some one approaching to 
 open the door, but no one came. He now knocked 
 louder, but without better success. Again and 
 again he knocked, and each time louder than be- 
 fore, but no answer came. He was now fairly 
 puzzled what steps to take, whether to remain on 
 the stairs all night or make another attempt to get 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 75 
 
 the door opened, when he heard the footsteps of 
 some one moving inside the apartment. A moment 
 afterwards the little wicket, which, in common with 
 most Italian houses of the day, was incased in the 
 principal door, was opened. 
 
 "Who is there ?" inquired Rosetti, for it was he 
 ■who had opened the wicket. From having left his 
 lamp in the sitting-room, he could not distinguish 
 Ochino's features. 
 
 " It is I, my brother — Bernardino Ochino. I 
 have been obliged to leave the Palace, and am 
 come to ask you for shelter and protection." 
 
 The Judge made no answer, but without hesita- 
 tion opened the door, and, taking Ochino by the 
 hand, drew him in, closing the entrance door 
 softly after them. Leading him into the sitting- 
 room, Rosetti, for the first time, spoke to him. 
 
 "Welcome, my brother, in any case," he said, 
 "but it would have been greater happiness for me 
 to have received you in any other character than 
 that of a fugitive. But tell me what untoward cir- 
 cumstance has occurred to oblige you to leave the 
 Palace? I flattered myself that you were there, 
 at least, in perfect safety." 
 
 " And I was of the same opinion yesterday, my 
 friend," said Ochino ; " but circumstances have 
 since greatly changed for the worse. Not only has 
 Oriz the Inquisitor had a somewhat stormy inter- 
 view with her Highness, but I myself met the 
 Jesuit Pelletario, who this morning returned from 
 Belriguardo with the Duke." 
 " But did Pelletario recognise you ? " 
 " He not only recognised me," replied Ochino, 
 " but told me he would infallibly denounce me to the 
 Duke to-morrow ; that he would have done so this 
 afternoon, but his Highness had quitted the Este 
 Palace for that of Belriguardo or Belfiore — he did not 
 know which — ^and would not return till to-morrow." 
 "The miserable traitor !" said the Judge. " You 
 were formerly intimate with him, were you not ? " 
 
 " True," said Ochino, " but at the same time I 
 cannot shake off the impression, that although 
 Pelletario threatened to denounce me to-morrow, 
 and I am persuaded will inflexibly keep his pro- 
 mise, his words in some obscure manner seemed to 
 convey a hint or advice to me to quit Ferrara to- 
 night, so that I might escape the clutches of the 
 ^Inquisitors." 
 
 " What did he say then ? " inquired the Judge. 
 " Not one word could I quote that would imply 
 the slightest idea of good feeUng towards me, but 
 there was a kind expression on his features and in 
 the tone of his voice which seemed to imply that 
 he wished to convey a friendlier intention than 
 could have been extracted from his speech. And 
 I should also state, that in saying the word to- 
 morrow, he placed a peculiar emphasis on it as if 
 he wished me to understand he would take no 
 Steps this evening. Altogether I believe his feeling 
 was not unfriendly, though he had ostensibly a 
 duty to perforai which he would go through with." 
 The Judge remained silent for a few moments, 
 and then said : 
 
 " My friend, there is no time to be lost. You 
 must leave Ferrara immediately, and I will accom- 
 pany you till you are out of danger." 
 
 " Pray do not think of risking your life," said 
 Ochino. " Your safety is far too valuable to our 
 brethren at this moment, to allow of your imperilling 
 it by accompanying me. I shall trust myself impli- 
 citly in God's hands. If it be His will that I should 
 escape, I have little to fear from the wiles of my 
 enemies. If He has ordained, for some good and 
 wise reason which we cannot fathom, that I should 
 fall into their power, I will resign myself submis- 
 sively to His will. All I shall do is to take the 
 just amount of labour and caution to escape which, 
 since the fall of our first parents, has been imposed 
 on all actions and works of man." 
 
 " The danger is not so great for me as you 
 imagine, my friend," said Rosetti. " My intention 
 is to accompany you till you are in a place of 
 safety or under the guidance of some one I can trust, 
 for in these days the fewer who know our secret, the 
 greater the probability of its being kept. For the 
 next three days I shall not sit in Court, and by the 
 fourth I have no doubt I shall have returned." 
 
 " But had you not better allow the young Swiss, 
 Camille Gurdon, to be my companion ? " asked 
 Ochino. 
 
 " I should possibly have done so, but he is not 
 in Ferrara to-night," said Rosetti. " Having 
 charged himself with the duty of procuring the 
 means for your escape, which he proposed should 
 take place to-morrow night, he went to find a boat- 
 man in whom he can trust who resides in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Mal-Albergo. He will not return till 
 to-morrow, when he will call on me early in the morn- 
 ing to inform me what arrangements he has made." 
 
 A silence of a few minutes now ensued, which 
 was broken by Ochino asking the Judge what steps 
 he proposed taking. 
 
 " I think," replied Rosetti, " the better plan 
 would be to leave the city by the Porta San 
 Giorgio. In the first place, many of our brethren 
 reside in that locality, and among them several of 
 the municipal guard. There will be one advantage 
 in my accompanying you ; for by my authority I 
 can prevent any disagreeable questions being asked 
 you by the guard should they meet you. The 
 officers on duty at the gate have now received 
 orders to allow no one, whether priest or layman, 
 to leave the city without permission, or accom- 
 panied by some one in authority between the Ave 
 Maria and sunrise, and I shall be able to get the 
 gates opened for you." 
 
 " When we have quitted the city, what do you 
 next propose doing?" inquired Ochino. 
 
 " We must keep ourselves as much screened 
 from observation as possible till the ferry-boat has 
 crossed the river to bring the peasants who wish to 
 attend market in the town. It is very possible 
 that the man who owns the ferry, Giacomo Zomo, 
 who is a strict member of our faith, will cross with 
 it. If so, I propose returning with him, and 
 sheltering you in his house till we can determine 
 
76 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 our plan of action. He is a staunch fellow, 
 and we may trust him without danger. But 
 now, my friend, let me advise you to resume your 
 friar's disguise, unpleasant as it may be to you. 
 You will find it in a chest in the room overhead. 
 Wait one moment till I have lighted a kmp for 
 you." Then placing the lamp, which he had lighted, 
 in Ochino's hand, he continued, "While you are 
 away, I will write two letters ; one to Teresa, 
 informing her that I may be absent for two or 
 three days ; the other to Camille Gurdon, enclosing 
 my daughter's, and requesting him to convey it 
 safely to her." 
 
 When it wanted about two hours of dawn, Biagio 
 Rosetti and Ochino, disguised as a Capuchin friar, 
 quitted the house in the Via del Piopponi, and 
 bent their steps towards the Porta San Giorgio. 
 Although the moon was now sinking, the night was 
 sufficiently clear to allow them to be seen at some 
 distance. They therefore kept as much as possible 
 under the shadows of the houses, and trod lightly 
 so as not to allow themselves to be heard. They 
 proceeded without interruption till they reached the 
 gate of San Giorgio, which, as they had expected, 
 they .found closed. The sentinel on duty now 
 challenged them, asking who they were and what 
 they wanted. The Judge answered that he and his 
 friend wished to leave the city, as they were about 
 to undertake a journey, and wanted to start as 
 early as possible. 
 
 " There are stricter orders than ever that no one 
 shall be allowed to leave the city till daybreak," 
 said the sentinel, " and so you must remain for the 
 present where you are, or go home again, which- 
 ever you like best." 
 
 The Judge now advanced a few steps to ascertain 
 if he knew the soldier ; but finding that he did not, 
 he inquired the name of the officer on guard. The 
 soldier informed him, and the Judge, to his great 
 satisfaction, not only found he was a Protestant, 
 but one most zealous in the cause. Leaving 
 Ochino standing by the gate, Rosetti entered the 
 guard-house and requested to see the officer. For 
 some time the men he found there refused to call 
 him, as he had thrown himself on his bed to take a 
 little sleep, leaving orders that he was not to be 
 disturbed without good cause. The Judge, how- 
 ever, was imperative. Although unknown even by 
 sight to the men, and unwilling to make himself 
 known to them, there was a certain impressive 
 dignity about him as of one accustomed to be 
 obeyed, and at last they offered no further objection. 
 One of their number left the guard-room, and, en- 
 tering an inner chamber, called the officer, who, 
 with an expression of some anger in his tone, in- 
 quired why he had been disturbed. Before Rosetti 
 had time to answer, the officer continued, " Pardon 
 me, I did not recognise you. What can I do to 
 serve you ?" 
 
 " I and a friend of mine wish to leave the city. 
 You would greatly oblige me by ordering the gates to 
 be opened. I will be your authority," said Rosetti. 
 
 •' With much pleasure," said the officer. " I am 
 
 sorry to have kept you waiting, but our orders are 
 not to allow any one to enter or leave the city un- 
 less they are well known to us, and in a position of 
 authority. Of course in your case there can be no 
 difficulty." So saying he quitted the guard-room 
 with the Judge to order the gates to be opeped. 
 
 Rosetti now pointed out to the officer the false 
 Capuchin as his companion, whispering in his ear 
 at the time the old Latin proverb, signifying that 
 the " frock did not make the monk." The gates 
 were opened, and the Judge, after thanking the 
 officer for his courtesy, left the city with Ochino. 
 
 Once outside the gates, they had to decide what 
 their next step should be. One, however, only 
 presented itself to them, and that was to wander 
 about at some distance from the gates, that they 
 might not be observed, till morning. Heavily 
 indeed did the interval pass with them. They 
 conversed but little, each being absorbed in his 
 own thoughts. At last, to their great satisfaction, 
 they saw on the other side of the river, the first 
 grey beams of morning spreading upwards in the 
 heavens, and their spirits and energies' seemed to 
 increase with the light. The Jiidge now advanced 
 to the river's edge, and kept his gaze fixed on the 
 opposite side, endeavouring to distinguish the 
 ferryman's house. By degrees it became visible, 
 and scarcely had the sun risen above the horizon 
 when he saw a man, whom he recognised as Gia- 
 como the ferryman, advancing towards the river 
 banks, and look towards the spot where they were 
 standing. The Judge immediately made signs for 
 Giacomo to cross, who, however, took no notice of 
 him for some time. Presently a passenger made 
 his appearance on the other side, and Giacomo 
 without delay prepared his boat to ferry him over. 
 Slowly indeed, in the eyes of the Judge and his 
 companion, did the boat appear to advance towards 
 them. At last, when it approached the shore, the 
 Judge went towards it, and as soon as the passenger 
 had landed, he spoke a few words to the ferry- 
 man. Sudden indeed was the alteration in Giacomo's 
 manner as soon as he perceived who had addressed 
 him. With great alacrity he now leaped on shore, ~ 
 and respectfully offered his arm to assist Rosetti 
 to enter the boat ; and he was about to push from 
 the shore without noticing the Capuchin, when the 
 Judge told him he was his friend, and that he 
 wished him to accompany him. Giacomo looked 
 somewhat surprised, but making no answer he 
 pushed his boat iDack again so as to allow 
 Ochino to enter it, and then again started for the 
 opposite side of the river. As soon as the boat' 
 was sufficiently far from the shore for them not to 
 be overheard, the Judge said to the ferryman — 
 
 " I dare say, my friend Giacomo, you are not a 
 little surprised to see me in company with a monL 
 But my companion now sitting beside me is not 
 one of the order whose dress he wears. He lias 
 merely put it on to escape from the city, and indeed 
 from the Duchy, to avoid the death he is threat?-.- 
 ened with for holding the religious principles we 
 profess. I told him his liie would be sale in yoiir. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 11 
 
 hands, and he believed me. ■ It is now for you to 
 prove 1 have spoken only the truth." 
 
 " You maybe certain, Excellenza," said Giacomo, 
 the expression of discontent which his face had 
 worn since Ochino entered the boat, clearing up as 
 he spoke, " thai I would willingly serve any friend 
 oi yours, although I admit I was somewhat sorry to 
 see you in company with one I believed to be araonk. 
 Now I know he is one of our faith, and in danger, 
 I have double satisfaction in assisting him. May I 
 know who your friend is, or does he wish to remain 
 unknown ? In either case I am at his service." 
 
 " I cannot do more to prove the reliance I have 
 in your good faith," said Rosetti, " than candidly to 
 inform you who he is, for should you ever betray 
 Irii, your fortune in this world might be considered 
 made. The dress he, as a Protestant, now wears is 
 the same as formerly he wore as a Roman Catholic. 
 He is no other than our pastor and leader Bernar- 
 dino Ochino, of whom I know you have heard. A 
 price is set on his head, and he is now leaving 
 Ferrara to escape to Venice, where he expects to 
 find some friends who will assist him in establish- 
 ing a mission atid reluge in Zurich for those of his 
 countrymen in Italy who are obliged to quit their 
 native land for conscience' sake." 
 
 As soon as Giacomo was aware who his illustrious 
 passenger was, he first drew in his oars, and then 
 rising from his seat, he took off his hood (which in 
 common with other boatmen of the river he habi- 
 tually wore) with his left hand, and taking Ochino's 
 in his right, kissed it respectfully. 
 
 " I am but a rude man/' he said to Ochino, as 
 he resumed his seat, "and hardly know how to 
 express myself in terms I would willingly use. I 
 should like to tell you in a proper manner how 
 great is my pleasure in being able to serve you, and 
 how the certainty of death itself shall not make me 
 desert you, but I am unable to do so in the language 
 I should like to make use of. Now tell me candidly 
 in what way can I serve you ?" and then, re-ship- 
 ping his oars, he again commenced rowing across 
 the stream. 
 
 " My friend has explained to you as nearly as 
 possible all I wish," said Ochino. " It is to escape 
 in the quickest manner across the Ferrarese fron- 
 tiers, that is to say, if by it I am able to reach 
 Venice, for there it is imperatively necessary I 
 should remain tor some days." 
 
 " riiat will not be at all difficult," said Giacomo, 
 " and I shall be able to accomplish it, I am fully 
 persuaded, without danger. But we are now ap- 
 proaching the shore, and I see several peasants 
 have already collected, and are waiting to cross the 
 ferry so as to be able to attend the early market. 
 As soon as we land I will conduct you to my house, 
 where you may remain in safety till I have arranged 
 how the ferry-boat work shall be done during the 
 day, as I intend to accompany you myself, that is 
 to say, if you agree to the suggestions I shall pre- 
 sently otter you. But let me give you one word of 
 counsel. When you are in my house do not let my 
 wile or any one else learn who you are, or on what 
 
 errand you are bent, and pray do not let it be 
 understood for a moment," he continued, address- 
 ing Ochino, " that you are other than you appear to 
 be, whoever may address you or speak to you. My 
 reasons for impressing this upon you I will explain 
 afterwards. Now let us land." 
 
 The boat was by this time at the shore, and a 
 crowd of peasants, at least four times the number it 
 would hold, collected round, all eager to enter as 
 soon as the Judge and Ochino had landed. With 
 some difficulty Giacomo got through them, making 
 room for the Judge and Ochino to pass on to his 
 house, and by way of drawing attention from the 
 quality of his two passengers, he addressed some- 
 what angrily, and in boatman's phraseology, the 
 peasants who were waiting to be rowed over. 
 
 " Are you all mad ?" he said. " Or do you want 
 to go to purgatory before your time, that a score of 
 you are trying to enter a boat not big enough to 
 hold half a dozen ?" 
 
 The peasants immediately admitted it was a 
 shame for so many to attempt to crowd a boat, 
 which at most could not hold more than four or 
 five with safety, not counting the luggage and goods 
 they carried with them, But then, as each insisted 
 that he was the first to arrive, and therefore in 
 justice should be ferried over first, the confusion 
 and excitement, to Giacomo's satisfaction, continued 
 without any interference on his part, till he had 
 seen the Judge and his companion enter his house. 
 Then, turning to his customers, he said — 
 
 " Hear me one moment, my friends. That boat 
 won't cross the river any more this day. Here 
 comes Pietro, my man — lazy fellow that he is, not 
 to have been here an hour ago — and I shall have 
 him and another, as well as my son, to work the 
 larger boat, which has room enough to accommodate 
 you all. Here Pietro, you lazy dog," he continued, 
 " come here and unmoor the large boat." Then 
 calling to his wife at the top of his voice (a buxom 
 looking dame, who came out of the house the 
 moment she heard her husband wanted her), " come 
 here, will you, and while Carlo" (speaking of his son) 
 " helps Pietro to get the boat ready, I wish you would 
 run to Batista's house and tell him I've got a day's 
 work for him, and will pay him well if he does it to 
 my satisfaction." 
 
 "Why should you have him?" said his wife. 
 " Why not work yourself?" 
 
 " Because I've got something else to do, which 
 I'll explain to you when I come back. Now, like 
 a good wife, do as I tell you." 
 
 His wife now ran off on her errand, and shortly 
 afterwards, one of the passengers offering to assist 
 Pietro and the boy in ferrying the larger boat over 
 the river, Giacomo with great alacrity accepted his 
 services, and in a few minutes the passengers had 
 entered and the boat was pushed from the shore. 
 
 Giacomo being now at perfect liberty, returned to 
 the house, where he found Rosetti and Ochino in 
 one of the rooms. 
 
 " My wife I have sent on an errand," he said, 
 " and my son with the man are both now employed 
 
78 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 in ferrying over a number of passengers, so that all 
 is clear for us to depart. I will get you to wait a 
 few minutes while I collect some provisions to put 
 in the boat, for it is better we should eat our morning 
 meal there, so as to be able to depart before my 
 wife comes back." 
 
 " But will you not leave word when she may ex- 
 pect you home again?" said the Judge. 
 
 " Better not," said Giacomo sadly, " I might be 
 asked whither I am going, and that I would not even 
 ■whisper to any but you, for I know not whom to trust, 
 and the very walls about here seem to have ears." 
 
 " As you please, my friend," said Rosetti. " We 
 are quite ready to accompany you now; I suppose 
 it is your intention to drop down the river, is it not ?" 
 
 " It is," said Giacomo. " But where we shall 
 land will be a subject for us to determine on after 
 we have started. I would advise," he continued, 
 sinking his voice to a low whisper, " that we went 
 no farther to-day than the village of Lagoscuro, 
 where we will remain the night. I there have a 
 brother who is one of the principal boat-owners on 
 the river, and who is also a staunch Protestant. 
 He is a man of good substance, and far cleverer 
 than I am, and his ability to assist you both with 
 means and advice are greater than are in my power. 
 Besides, there are many others of our faith living 
 there, and we shall be surrounded by friends who 
 will advise us whether it would be better to go 
 direct by land to Venice or drop down the river to 
 Commacchio, and from thence go by sea." 
 
 Giacomo then left them, and a few moments 
 afterwards returned with some salame, or dried pig's 
 flesh — a favourite article of food with the lower 
 orders of Ferrara — and a loaf of bread. They now 
 left the house together, and made their way to the 
 boat in which they at once took their seats. When 
 they had started, and were dropping swiftly down 
 the stream, Ochino asked Giacomo the reason of 
 the great caution he showed before leaving home. 
 
 " Your question," said Giacomo, " is a somewhat 
 difficult and disagreeable one to answer. In the 
 first place it would be impossible for me to point 
 out any particular cause I have for suspicion. 1 
 have injured no one, nor, to the best of my know- 
 ledge, have I given anyone just cause for animosity. 
 Again, all profess for me perfect good-will, yet 
 an uneasy feeling has lately come over me that 
 some evil is impending, that some one is my secret 
 enemy. True, all my neighbours continue openly 
 to treat me with the greatest friendship, but even 
 their kindness of manner appears to be forced, and 
 as if they were concealing something from me, 
 which weighs on my spirits, and makes me some- 
 times feel very miserable." 
 
 " But is not that aft6r all more a fancy than any- 
 thing else ?" said the Judge. 
 
 " Pray Heaven that it may be so," said Giacomo. 
 " At the same time it is a dreadful thing to imagine 
 that those in whom we place the greatest reliance, 
 and who, by every tie of friendship and affection, 
 we ought most to depend on, are secretly working 
 against us." 
 
 " But you surely do not allude to the members 
 of your own family?" said Ochino. 
 
 " Unfortunately I do," replied Giacomo, with 
 much sadness in his tone. " Until lately I never 
 had a thought which my wife did not share, and 
 now I cannot divest myself of the impression that 
 she is secretly my enemy." 
 
 " It must be your fancy," said Rosetti. 
 
 " I would I could think so, but lately I have 
 found both my wife and son secretly conferring 
 with others, and those always strong Romanists. 
 When I have spoken to them on the subject, they 
 have always found an excuse, evading my questions 
 or not answering them. Others of our faith have 
 also confided to me that the same impression hangs 
 over them, that there are secret enemies among 
 those in whom they trusted, and all Protestants 
 must now look with, suspicion, not only on their 
 neighbours, but on members of their own families. 
 That there is some terrible misfortune hanging 
 over the brethren of the Reformed faith, I am 
 fully persuaded. But of that you perhaps are 
 better able to form an opinion than I am." 
 
 " I would willingly say I differed from you," said 
 Rosetti, " but unfortunately I fear the evil day is 
 close at hand. May God take us into his protec- 
 tion and gra'nt us patience and courage to endure 
 the persecutions which I fear will soon fall on us." 
 
 The same style of conversation continued for 
 some time longer, till they had nearly reached 
 Lagoscuro, when Giacomo, resting for a moment 
 on his oars, told them that they must now deter- 
 mine in what manner they would land, so as to 
 excite as little observation as possible. He sug- 
 gested that they should enter with the boat a spot 
 near the river-side, overgrown with tall rushes, in 
 which they could conceal themselves for the mo- 
 ment without difficulty or danger of discovery. 
 
 " I will then leave you," he continued, " for a 
 short time, while I proceed to my brother's house, 
 and ascertain whether he is at home, which I de- 
 voutly hope may be the case, for if he is absent it 
 may place us in some difficulty. If he is at home, I 
 will return again and conduct you to his house. 
 You need not doubt a hospitable reception, for I 
 can assure you that in all Italy there is not a 
 stronger friend to the Protestant cause than my 
 brother Frederigo. Should he be absent or on a 
 journey, we will then deliberate whether to await 
 his return or drop farther down the river. There 
 is no one else we can trust till we arrive at Com- 
 macchio, but there I know a good man, who could 
 not only shelter us, but would take us in one of 
 his own vessels (and he has three) to Venice. But 
 of that we will talk more when I return." i 
 
 Giacomo now pushed the boat into the rush^| 
 till he had reached the shore, where he leaped on' 
 it, and, leaving his two companions, started off to 
 his brother's house. 
 
 The anxiety of mind under which Biagio Rosetti 
 and Ochino were labouring had the effect of closing 
 their eyes to the unpleasant position in which they 
 had been left by Giacomo. A nearly noon-tide 
 
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 Pi 
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THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 8i 
 
 sun poured its full rays on their heads, while the 
 rushes which surrounded them impeded a breath of 
 air from reaching them, causing an almost stifling 
 sensation of heat. Fortunately, however, they were 
 detained but a short time. Before half an hour 
 had elapsed, Giacorno returned in company with 
 a well-dressed man, who there was little diffitiulty 
 in perceiving was his brother, although the new- 
 comer was evidently the s-^n'o'- bv some ten years. 
 
 Advancing towards the river's edge, he addressed 
 the Judge and Ochino with much courtesy. 
 
 " My brother Giacomo," he said to Ochino, 
 " informs me that you have been obliged to quit 
 Ferrara to escape from the hands of the Inquisi- 
 tors. All the assistance I can render you is freely 
 at your service. My house is yours as long as 
 it may please you to remain in it, and when you 
 wish to leave, I will do all in my power to assist 
 
 you in reaching Venice. I must, however, inform 
 you that you will not be without danger till you 
 have quitted us ; for the storm which is bursting 
 over Ferrara must reach us also here. But more of 
 that presently. We must now contrive so that you 
 may reach my house in such manner as to attract 
 as little attention as possible. Fortunately all my 
 men have left me, it being the feast of some saint, 
 and they have taken a half-holiday, so you will 
 avoid any remark from them. If your Excellency 
 will accompany me," he continued, addressing the 
 6 
 
 Judge, "we will proceed by land ; while your com- 
 panion can go with Giacomo in the boat, and we 
 shall in a few minutes meet again, for my house is 
 close to the river's side. It would seem strange if 
 I were seen talking with one in a friar's frock." 
 
 The Judge and Frederigo now stepped on shore, 
 and proceeded together towards the house,- which 
 they contrived to reach without meeting any one 
 on the road. A few minutes afterwards they were 
 joined by Ochino and Giacomo. 
 
82 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA, 
 
 CHAPTF,R XVTI. — FRFDFRIGO THE BOAT-BUILDER. 
 
 '-^rpHE village of 
 \\ 4 Lag OS euro 
 IaM, though of 
 recent origin, 
 was of con- 
 siderable im- 
 p o r t a n c e. 
 Fifty years 
 before the 
 whole district 
 was little 
 better than 
 one cofttinued 
 marsh. But in 
 proportion as 
 the locality 
 became heal- 
 thier by the 
 draining of the 
 marsh, the 
 prosperity of 
 the village 
 ' increased. 
 Houses began to spring up along the banks of the 
 river in place of the miserable hovels which for- 
 merly stood there ; and a new church of consider- 
 able pretensions was built, as well as a convent for 
 the Benedictine nuns, which was afterwards richly 
 endowed. 
 
 At the time of our narrative Lagoscuro was 
 frequently visited by holiday-makers from Ferrara, 
 attracted by the immense Venetian galleys taken in 
 the celebrated sea-fight which had occurred lower 
 down the river some thirty years before, during 
 the wars of the league of Canibray, when Alfonso, 
 the father of the present Duke, defended himself 
 almost single-handed against the combined attack 
 of the powers of Italy, and defeated them. 
 
 The house of Frederigo, Ochino's host, was 
 situated at the entrance to the village. It was of 
 considerable pretensions, and passed as the dwell- 
 ing of a very flourishing tradesman. It consisted 
 of two wings, the road leading from Ferrara running 
 between them. Of these, the one nearest the river 
 was used for boat-building, and was of considerable 
 extent, for, as his brother had already stated, 
 Frederigo possessed more than one boat, and all of 
 considerable dimensions. In front of this part of 
 the building, piles were driven into the river, and 
 all the boats not in immediate use were moored to 
 them. 
 
 Shortly after they had entered the dwellirjg por- 
 tion of the house, a fine, sedate-looking young man 
 came in, whom Frederigo introduced as his son, 
 the only surviving member of his family. His 
 wife and two children had been at Ferrara during 
 the last visitation of the plague, and both had suc- 
 cumbed to the pestilence. Frederigo had remained 
 a widower, carefully watching that his son should 
 
 be educated in the Protestant faith. He had now 
 grown up, and was as ardent an adherent of the 
 Reformed doctrines as his father. 
 
 After they had remained in conversation for 
 a short tirhe, Frederigo and his son, assisted 
 by a staid-looking old woman who acted as servant, 
 prepared the table for their mid-day meal, and that 
 being in readiness, Frederigo allowed her to depart 
 on some errand of her own, saying they could 
 do without her services for a time. Singularly 
 enough, the old woman did not seem to be in any 
 hurry to go, and when she did so, it was only in 
 obedience to her master's order. Shortly after she 
 had disappeared, Ochino questioned his host on 
 the state of the Reformed religion in Lagoscuro, 
 assuring him that he had heard there were at one 
 time many adherents of the new faith in the village. 
 Frederigo replied that this had been the case, but 
 that for a considerable time back their iiumbers 
 had been decreasing. Many of those who had 
 brought up their children in the Reformed faith 
 were grieved to find that they were being tampered 
 with, and, yielding to their tempters, were joining 
 the Romish Church. This Frederigo attributed to 
 the insidious operations of the Inquisition in 
 Ferrara, and to the fact that a party of monks, ten 
 in number, had, a year or two before, taken up 
 their residence in the village. At first they had 
 made no open attempts on the faith of the Pro- 
 testants, but latterly they had been at no pains to 
 conceal that their object was to bring back the 
 inhabitants of the village to the old religion. 
 
 The return of Frederigo's servant from her enand 
 put an end to the conversation; and their meal 
 being over, she commenced removing the things 
 from the table, eyeing the while Ochino, who still 
 wore his friar's dress, with an expression of intense 
 curiosity on her countenance, which by no means 
 escaped the Judge. 
 
 They now quitted the dwelling-house, and, cross- 
 ing the road, proceeded to the empty workshop, 
 where they seated themselves, so that they might 
 enjoy the cool breeze, which at that moment 
 arose from the river. The Judge then took the 
 opportunity to ask Frederigo some particulars re- 
 specting the history of the woman who had waited 
 at table. 
 
 " I know little of her," was the reply, " beyond 
 that her husband died a good Protestant. The 
 woman herself also professes to be one, and fre- 
 quently attends our family prayers. I have been, 
 myself, more than once, ready to suspect her of 
 being a spy, and thought of questioning her on 
 the subject ; but, alas ! were I to prove my sus- 
 picions to be correct, I should only be adding 
 one sorrow more to the many I am at present 
 suffering. No, I will say nothing to her. In our 
 house there is little need for a spy. Both my 
 son and I openly avow ourselves to be attached 
 members of the Protestant creed, and as such, 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 83 
 
 utterly adverse to all the pretensions of the Pope 
 of Rome. This we admit without any hesitation, 
 and, therefore, there would be little use in the In- 
 quisitors setting a spy upon us to discover more. 
 But what induced you to ask me the woman's 
 history?" 
 
 "From noticing the hesitation she showed to 
 leave the room when our friend Ochino was about 
 .asking a blessing on our meal, as well as from the 
 curious looks she gave him when she returned from 
 her errand." 
 
 " I did not observe it," said Frederigo. " But I 
 am very glad you have mentioned it, as I shall 
 now take pare she sees as little of him as possible." 
 
 " Have you no pastor of the Reformed faith at 
 present in Lagoscuro?" asked Ochino. 
 
 " No, none, nor has there been for the last two 
 years," was Frederigo's reply. 
 
 " Do you think it would be possible to collect 
 some of your scattered flock together, so that I 
 might address them before my departure?" said 
 Ochino. 
 
 " There would be little difficulty in collecting 
 them, but the subject requires grave consideration," 
 replied Frederigo. " A price is set on your head, 
 and among those who hear you might be one who 
 is aware of it, and treason comes easily enough to 
 those who imagine they will receive the blessing of 
 Heaven by practising it. Again, you must deter- 
 mine how long you intend to remain among us. 
 Do not think me inhospitable if I suggest it should 
 be as short a time as possible. Once in Venetian 
 territories, you will be comparatively safe, at any 
 rate from the authorities of Ferrara, as the haughty 
 RepubUc is too proud of the protection it throws 
 over its citizens, as well as foreigners who fly to it 
 for shelter, to allow them to be seized and taken 
 from it without permission." 
 
 " I should propose," said Ochino, " leaving early 
 to-morrow, and should wish to reach Venice by 
 land if possible ; but for that purpose I must find 
 a trusty guide, and one well acquainted with the 
 district," 
 
 " There will be little difficulty as to that. I am 
 sure my son Paulo will undertake the duty willingly. 
 And he is well adapted for it, not only from the 
 love he bears you and the faith you preach, 
 but from his perfect knowledge of the localities 
 through which you will have to pass. But as to ' 
 your idea of a meeting of our brethren, we will 
 collect a few — and but a very few — for you to 
 address this evening, and that it will be prudent to 
 do with great secrecy. We had better hold it in 
 the place we are now in, and not meet till after 
 nightfall, so as to avoid observation as much as 
 possible." 
 
 Ochino, having expressed his approbation of the 
 arrangement, Frederigo turned to his son and 
 requested him to undertake the duty of inviting 
 their neighbours to the meeting. Paulo with 
 great willingness immediately left the boat-house 
 to start on his father's errand, and the conversa- 
 tion between Frederigo and his guests was carried 
 
 on with much interest, till suddenly the sound 
 of many horses' feet, approaching by the road 
 from Ferrara, caught their attention. As the 
 sound came nearer, they thought they could dis- 
 tinguish with the tramp of the horses the clashing 
 of arms, such as is occasioned when a troop of 
 cavalry ■ are in rapid movement. Their curiosity 
 now being fairly eicited, they rose from their seats 
 by the river's side and proceeded to the door of the 
 boat-house, which opened on the road, placing 
 themselves in such a position as to be able to see 
 who were the fresh arrivals, Ochino remaining in 
 the rear, so as to be observed as little as possible. 
 Their curiosity was soon gratified, for a few mo- 
 ments only had elapsed before several soldiers of 
 the Ducal Guard in full accoutrements passed at a 
 smart trot. Behind them came a carretta with 
 silken curtains, on which the white eagle, the crest 
 of the House of Este, was embroidered in silver 
 lace. This again was followed by another carretta, 
 in which were seated two men of the Dominican 
 Order ; and a body of soldiers brought up the rear. 
 
 The cavalcade had hardly passed when an ex- 
 pression of anxiety was to be seen on the faces of 
 the occupants of the boat-house. Short as had 
 been the time while the first carretta was passing 
 the door, and although the curtains were only 
 partially drawn aside, Rosetti was able to see 
 that it contained four ladies, and he felt assured 
 that one of them was no other than Donna Boni- 
 facio, the senior lady in wating on the Princesses, 
 while another seemed to be dressed in the garb of 
 a nun, and he therefore concluded that the other 
 two ladies were the young Princesses themselves. 
 
 The Judge having mentioned this suspicion to 
 his friends, Frederigo left the boat-house, and stand- 
 ing in the road followed the escort with his eyes till 
 at last they appeared to take the direction of the 
 convent. He then returned to the boat-house, and 
 told his companions what he had seen. 
 
 " I should much like to know the purport of 
 their visit to the convent," said the Judge. " Surely 
 they cannot have had the heart to separate the 
 Princesses from their mother. If so, it will indeed 
 be a cruel blow. But no, his Highne'ss, whatever 
 his faults may be, and however subordinate he may 
 hitherto have shown himself to the Court of Rome, 
 differs widely in this respect from his illustrious 
 father, and would not listen to any advice to take 
 steps against the Duchess."- 
 
 " You forget, my friend," said Ochino, " the 
 arrival of the Inquisitor Oriz. That he threatened 
 to deprive her of the society of her children I know, 
 and there is now, I fear, too much reason to beheve 
 that he has persuaded his Highness to let him 
 carry out his threat. But have we no means of 
 ascertaining the fact?" 
 
 " I would willingly go myself," said Frederigo, 
 "but my making inquiries concerning anything 
 connected with the convent might give rise to the 
 idea that I, in my turn, was playing the spy on the 
 movements of my enemies, and that impression I 
 should be loth to raise in their minds." Then see- 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 ing the woman whom he employed as a servant 
 standing at the doorway of the dwelling-house, he 
 called to her, and asked if she knew who they 
 were that had just passed the house. 
 
 " I do not know," said the woman, glancing fur- 
 tively at Ochino, who had advanced to within a 
 short distance of where the others were standing, 
 *' but I suspect they are ladies of importance, from 
 the guard being with them, and the reverend 
 fathers accompanying them." 
 
 " I wish," said Frederigo, " you would ascertain, 
 if possible, who they are, as I should much like to 
 know, and then come back and tell me as soon as 
 you can." 
 
 The woman, greatly pleased with her mission, 
 left the boat-house, and the friends again ^eated 
 themselves by the river's side, conversing on the 
 dangers by which they were surrounded. This 
 continued for more than an hour, when the woman 
 returned to give an account of what she had heard. 
 This time Ochino's curiosity got the better of his 
 prudence, and he advanced with the rest to hear 
 the woman's report. She told them, with a look of 
 •evident triumph on her face, which she in vain 
 attempted to conceal, that she had heard that 
 an escort had arrived there with the Princesses 
 Lucrezia and Eleonora, the two chief' ladies-in- 
 waiting, and two Dominican fathers ; that the 
 Princesses and ladies were to remain at the 
 convent, and the Dominicans were to be lodged 
 with the others who had been for some time 
 resident in Lagoscuro, and the troops were to be 
 billeted on the inhabitants till further orders. Here 
 she stopped short, pressing her lips together as if 
 she had some further intelligence to communicate, 
 but was dubious of the effect it might produce. 
 The Judge, well-accustomed to the reticence of 
 witnesses, easily perceived the woman was conceal- 
 ing something. 
 
 " Come," he said to her, good-humouredly, "what 
 you have told us is the truth, I am sure. At the 
 same time, it is not the whole truth, and you have 
 heard more than that, I am certain." 
 
 " If you have," said Frederigo, angrily, to the 
 woman, " tell us the whole of it at once. What is 
 all this mystery about ? I have no secrets myself, 
 and do not wish my servants to have any either." 
 
 " You are my padrone," said the woman, with 
 great readiness, " and have a right to know all if you 
 wish it. Well, then, f also heard that the Duke' 
 was angry with the Duchess, and had determined 
 that the Princesses should be separated from her, 
 and never be allowed to see her again — that is to 
 say, unless she become a good Catholic." Here 
 she again stopped short. 
 
 "'I'here is more you can tell us yet," said the 
 Judge, who had been watching her attentively. 
 
 " Well, then," she continued, this time giving a 
 glance of triumph at Ochino, evidently mistaking 
 him for one of the order whose dress he wore, and 
 expecting he would be pleased with the news she 
 had to tell, " all the Protestants ot her Highness's 
 suite have been denounced as heretics, and are now 
 
 in the hands of the Fathers of the Holy Inquisition, 
 or at any rate soon will be, and orders have been 
 given that all heresy shall be put down, so that the 
 holy Church may be again triumphant through tlie 
 whole land." 
 
 Terribly did these words tell on the mind of the 
 Judge. He became deadly pale, and had evidently 
 great difficulty to keep himself from falling. " Oh, 
 my child ! " he muttered, and then restraining him- 
 self, he asked the woman if she had heard who had 
 been arrested. 
 
 She told him she had not, and all she knew was 
 that several were in the hands of the Inquisitors, 
 that others had for the moment escaped, but there 
 was little doubt they would soon be captured. 
 
 Frederigo, who had been watching the woman 
 sternly for some time, now said to her, " You must 
 leave my house, Margherita, for I suspect you 
 yourself are a Romanist." 
 
 The woman drew herself up, and glancing a look 
 of defiance at her master, said to him, "You are 
 right — I am a member of the holy Church. You 
 heretics have had your day, and have had the best 
 of everything in the land, but ours is coming at last 
 Now you know me, and for the future you may do 
 the work of your own house, or get any heretic 
 woman you please. I have given up the errors of 
 Calvinism, and received absolution for my faults. 
 And now take my advice, the best thing you 
 can do to save yourselves from the hands of thd 
 Inquisitors is to follow my example, though why I 
 should give you advice after the drudge you made 
 me while I was as good, or bad, a Protestant as 
 yourself,. I know not." So saying, she turned 
 sharply round, and smiling graciously at Ochino, as 
 if she believed he was silently approving her be' 
 haviour, she left the boat-house. 
 
 As soon as she had disappeared, the Judge seated 
 himself on a bench and burst into tears. Ochino 
 and the two others tried to console him, but in vain. 
 
 " My poor child ! " he said : " what has become 
 of her ? What can I do to help her ? Doubtless 
 she is at this moment in the hands of the Inquisi- 
 tion ; for how would it be possible for her to have 
 escaped? God grant me fortitude to support my 
 misfortunes, and give me counsel in what -manner to 
 avert them ! I will at once return to Ferrara, and 
 seek her, let what may be the consequence." 
 
 " My friend," said Ochino, " pray calm yourself, 
 and reflect before you take any hasty step. In the 
 first place, you have no proof that the woman's 
 statement is true. You know perfectly well how 
 all popular reports are exaggerated by the last teller, 
 and it is probable that this woman may have said 
 a great deal more than she has heard. Let us wait 
 a. little while to hear whether there is any con- 
 firmation. If so, do then as you may think fit." 
 
 "At the same time," said Giacomo, "I much 
 doubt whether it will be prudent for you to leave 
 here before nightfall, so that you may escape un- 
 observed. It would be better, at any rate, to wait 
 till night, so that we may catch the evening breeze 
 as it comes up the river. I hope that we may reach 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Ferrara before daybreak, so that we may not be 
 seen on our arrival. Besides," he continued, " we 
 should gain nothing if we started immediately. We 
 could not arrive in Ferrara till long after Ave Maria, 
 when the gates are closed till dawn." 
 
 The Judge saw how reasonable was the advice 
 given him, and he attempted, though uselessly, 
 to calm his anxiety. The time passed wearily 
 enough with all till the sun had begun to sink 
 in the horizon, when Paulo returned. A look 
 of sadness was on the young fellow's countenance, 
 which seemed to confirm before he spoke the 
 intelligence already reported by the servant. He 
 told them that he had heard all the attendants 
 of her Highness had been arrested; but whether 
 the Duchess herself was at liberty, he was un- 
 able to say. He also confirmed the report that 
 the Princesses had arrived at the convent. With 
 respect to the immediate object of his mission, he 
 merely said that at nightfall some ten or a dozen 
 members of their community would assemble in the 
 boat-house to meet the reverend pastor, Ochino. 
 
 The Judge took no part in the conversation 
 which ensued, being too much absorbed in his own 
 sorrows, and the rest now discussed the best means 
 to be adopted for Ochino's escape. It was evident 
 not a moment was to be lost ; but as it was far 
 more probable he would be detected in the daytime 
 than at night, and as, on the whole, nothing would 
 be lost by remaining a few hours longer, it was 
 determined that they should wait with what patience 
 they could summon til) after the meeting. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. THE WITCH. 
 
 Little sleep came to Madonna Ponte and Teresa 
 the first night they passed in the house of the old 
 blind woman. In their arrangements for the night. 
 Madonna Ponte and Teresa occupied the bed in the 
 room which formed the body of the house ; while the 
 old woman improvised a bed, or, to speak more 
 correctly, slept on the almost bare floor in the slip 
 behind. 
 
 Although neither of the ladies slept, the reason 
 for their wakefulness differed considerably. Ma- 
 donna Ponte was full of alarm lest she should be 
 discovered, and delivered over to the Inquisition, 
 and earnestly did she pray that Providence would 
 save her from its clutches. Teresa, on the con- 
 trary, though naturally alarmed for her own safety, 
 was far less selfish in her sorrow. Her own 
 danger was to a considerable degree hidden from 
 her by the anxiety she ielt for two others — 
 her dear father and her illustrious and kind 
 patroness, the Duchess Rende. Of these, the 
 safety of her father occupied the greater portion of 
 her thoughts. Over and over again did she con- 
 jure up surmises as to his probable fate. That he 
 was not in the house when the agents of tlie In- 
 quisition visited it was certain, and this in itself 
 was a source of great consolation to her. Then 
 the idea occurred to her that he might afterwards 
 have returned, and thus fallen into a trap which 
 very probably had been laid ior him, and then all 
 
 the anxiety which had been somewhat smoothed 
 away by the first reflection returned in double 
 force. She now began to think that possibly Gero- 
 lamo, by way of not distressing her more than 
 could be avoided, had deceived her in the account 
 he had given, and that her father was already a 
 prisoner. But, no, she argued, after a moment's 
 consideration : there was too much honesty in his 
 tone and manner to cause her any suspicion — he 
 had evidently told the truth. She then began to 
 conjure up reasons for her father's absence irom 
 home at the time of the visit of the Inquisitors. 
 Had he been informed of the danger which awaited 
 him ? and if so, by whom ? She next remembered 
 the possibility that both her father and Ochino had 
 escaped together ; but, then, who could have warned 
 them both of the danger they were in? Simul- 
 taneously with its formation, the question was an- 
 swered in the poor girl's mind — the person to 
 whom she was indebted for her father's safety, as 
 well as Ochino's, was evidently Caniille Gurdon. 
 And grateful, indeed, did she feel to him for it ; 
 for whatever might have been her doubts before, 
 the nascent affection she bore to the young fellow, 
 which she was hardly yet aware of herself, induced 
 her to believe, with implicit reliance, in the con- 
 clusion she had arrived at. 
 
 Teresa next thought of the fate of the Duchess. 
 She had always looked upon her Highness as occu- 
 pying so exalted a position as to be far above the 
 reach of her enemies, whoever they might be. Still 
 she had had experience from the visit of Oriz, that, 
 elevated as her dignity might be, the Duchess was 
 not altogether safe from annoyances, and she could 
 easily perceive these annoyances would be greater 
 in proportion as he gained ascendency over the 
 mind of the Duke. Her thoughts then again re- 
 verted to her lather, with whom she now began to 
 assimilate Camille Gurdon, till she felt the certi- 
 tude — though, as the reader is aware, without the 
 slightest reason to go upon — that they were at that 
 moment in a place of safety. 
 
 Early the next morning the old blind woman 
 entered the room, and conimt;nced making prepara- 
 tions for their morning meal with an amount of dex- 
 terity which seemed perfectly wonderful, considC' ing 
 the unfortunate calamity under which she was labour- 
 ing. Uncovering some braise, which had been put 
 under some ashes in the little stove in the centre of 
 the room, she placed on it a few pieces of charccal 
 from a box in the corner, and kindled it with her 
 breath till it was in a glow, and she then placed on 
 it a rude earthen pipkin, containing some in ilk 
 which had been purchased for them the evening 
 before by Gerolamo. When the milk was thoroughly 
 heated, she took the pipkin from the fire, and 
 placing it and some bread on the little coarse table, 
 invited her guests to their meal. It could haidly 
 be said that either Teresa or Donna Ponte lelt 
 much appetite lor this repast ; their inditlerence, 
 however, not arising from the homely nature of the 
 food which had been set before them, but Irom the 
 state of anxiety they were both in. Their hostess, 
 
86 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 judging from the short time they were at their 
 meal that they had eaten but little, thought that 
 possibly they did not like the food she had pre- 
 pared lor them, and endeavoured to make excuses 
 for it, begging them to remember the poverty she 
 was in. 
 
 " Make no excuses," said Teresa ; " on the con- 
 trary, we are most grateful to you for the shelter 
 you have given us, but in our present state of 
 anxiety it would be impossible to relish our meal, 
 whatever you might have set before us. Now, 
 tell me, when do you expect your son will arrive?" 
 
 " It is impossible for me to say," she replied ; 
 " but of this you may be certain, that as soon as he 
 can escape from his duties you will see him." 
 
 The conversation then turned on the probable 
 events which had taken place, and what means 
 they had for obtaining information ; but argue it as 
 they would, they could arrive at no definite con- 
 clusion, nor could the poor old blind woman assist 
 them in the matter. She would willingly have left 
 the house and made inquiries for them herself, but 
 her blindness made it difficult for her to go any 
 distance. 
 
 " Other blind people, I am aware," she con- 
 tinued, " have no difficulty in finding their way from 
 one side of the city to the other, but I have not 
 for more than three years ever reached the city 
 gate. The last time I entered it I was received so 
 barbarously that I resolved never again, while God 
 should spare me, to make the attempt." 
 
 " Treated you barbarously !" exclaimed Teresa. 
 " What jjrovocation could you possibly have given 
 them ?" 
 
 "None whatever, my child," said the poor 
 woman ; " but when bad passions are up, and 
 prejudices arise in the minds of the ignorant, little 
 provocation is required to raise up persecution." 
 She then remained silent for a moment, — as if 
 evidently wishing to say more, yet keenly feeling 
 how painful was the avowal she was about to 
 make, — and then continued — " But why should I 
 attempt to conceal it from you ? for surely you will 
 not credit the absurd accusation. They said I was 
 a witch. I attempted to pass them without notice, 
 feeling my way with my staff, when some one 
 snatched it from me. The crowd which had 
 collected jeered at me, and told me to go on with- 
 out it. But I could not find my way, for I had 
 become greatly embarrassed. They said it was 
 another proof that I was a witch, and that the staff 
 had been given me by the enemy of mankind, and 
 without it I was powerless. I implored of them 
 to return it to me, when one of them proposed they 
 should try the test of water, and take me outside 
 the gates and throw me into the river. For- 
 tunately, at that moment a priest joined the crowd, 
 who, seeing the treatment I was receiving, pushed 
 boldly forward and told them they were cowards to 
 attack a defenceless old woman in so shameful a 
 manner, and, snatching my staff — the one I nOw 
 carry — from the fellow who held it, he replaced it 
 in my hand, and then, with a tone of authority, to 
 
 which all seemed to bow, he told them to make 
 way for me, and taking me by the arm, led me 
 himself to the city gate, where he requested the 
 soldiers not to a,llow the crowd to follow me. 
 When we had passed the gate, he said to me, 
 ' Can you find your way now ?' I told him I could, 
 and he said, ' Then go in peace,' and left me." 
 
 " Did you not feel sorry at being obliged to 
 receive assistance from a priest ? " said Ponte. 
 
 "I did not," said the woman, "nor do I now. 
 We are taught to love our enemies, to bless them 
 that curse us, and to pray for them which despite- 
 fully use us and persecute us. What, then, should 
 be our feeling toward those, even of a different faith, 
 who treat us with kindness and love ? " 
 
 " Do you think the priest knew you ?" asked 
 Teresa. 
 
 " I have often had that impression," said the 
 woman, " and the manner he quitted me has made 
 the impression still stronger. I was not always in 
 the state of poverty and misery you at present find 
 me in, and formerly I had many acquaintances in 
 Ferrara." 
 
 Teresa and Madonna Ponte regarded each other 
 for some time with a look of curiosity as if they 
 would willingly know something more of their 
 hostess. There was a certain plaintiveness in her 
 tone, a correctness in her language, and a dignity in 
 her manner which seemed to prove the -truth of her 
 statement that she had formerly been in a far better 
 position in life. The old woman, with that singular 
 intelligence so often found in those labouring under 
 her infirmity, readily guessed their thoughts. She 
 now entered into conversation with them on the 
 subject of her former hfe, and the circumstances 
 which had occurred to reduce her and her son to 
 the deplorable condition they were then in. She 
 was, she told them, the wife of a physician, formerly 
 of considerable eminence in the city, a Dr. Fran- 
 cesco Cortaldo. Her husband, disgusted with the 
 abuses which had been noticed among the clergy 
 of the Church of Rome, was among the first to turn 
 an ear to those who preached the Reformed doc- 
 trines, and, instigated probably at the time by 
 the love she bore her young husband, rather than 
 from being able to reason correctly on the subject, 
 she also adopted the Protestant faith, in which their 
 numerous family of children were educated. 
 
 Time passed on, and their family grew up, Gero- 
 lamo being the eldest of the children. Then fol-' 
 lowed three other sons, two of whom had perished 
 on the battle-field, and the third had a few years 
 before our narrative been obliged to escape from 
 Ferrara in consequence of his religious opinions, 
 and had not since been heard of. The next child 
 was a girl, and after her three other children, who 
 had all died in infancy. The girl — the idol of her 
 father — was of uncommon beauty and considerable 
 intellect. Naturally froward and vain, these two 
 leading faults in her character were still further 
 developed by the incessant compliments poured 
 into her ear on her great beauty. Both father and" 
 mother saw the necessity of keeping a careful watch 
 
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THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 89 
 
 over their child ; and they had not only to do this, 
 but also to watch the machinations of a certain 
 Count Dedia, who had become deeply enamoured 
 of her, and whose affection she fully returned. 
 Although the young Count was possessed of consi- 
 derable wealth, ample, in fact, to maintain a wi,e 
 in his own position in society, he was not able by 
 the laws of Ferrara to marry Angela, as he could 
 not obtain his father's consent. In these circum- 
 stances the physician determined that all cor- 
 respondence should cease between his daughter 
 and the Count. Unfortunately his precaution was 
 useless. The wretched girl, finding marriage was 
 impossible, quitted her father's house, and took up 
 her residence at Count Dedia's. This was a ter- 
 rible blow to the physician and his wife, and they 
 mourned for tlieir daughter as for one lost to them 
 for ever. The father became so depressed in 
 spirits that he resolved to relinquish his profession, 
 and having saved as much money as would suffice 
 to maintain himself and his wife for the remainder 
 of their lives in comfort, if not in luxury, they re- 
 moved to the suburbs, so as to be beyond the reach 
 of any reports of their daughter's conduct. 
 
 Three years passed in this way, during which 
 the daughter continued to reside with her lover, 
 while her brother Gerolamo had been drafted as a 
 soldier. At length the physician's health gave 
 way, and he began to sink rapidly. He humbly 
 prepared himself for the great change, having but 
 one cause of sorrow — the conduct of his only daugh- 
 ter. One evening, after a succession of fainting 
 fits, he perceived that he had but a few hours to 
 live. Struggling with himself as if he hardly liked 
 to make the avowal, he called his wife to his bed- 
 side, and implored her to send at once for Angela, 
 that he might see her again before he died. A 
 messenger was despatched, who found her sur- 
 rounded by some of the gayest people in Ferrara. 
 She heard with surprise and alarm of her father's 
 dangerous condition. Great and many as had been 
 her faults, they had not succeeded in destroying 
 the love she possessed for her parents. Without 
 mentioning the errand on which she was bound, 
 she called a man-servant to attend her, and then 
 accompanied the messenger to her father's house. 
 
 The physician had sufficient consciousness to 
 recognise his child, and although unable to speak, 
 the tears poured down his face, and plainly told the 
 emotion under which he was labouring. Struck 
 with grief at her father's condition, Angela threw 
 herself on her knees beside the bed. Taking his 
 hand in hers, she earnestly implored his forgiveness 
 for her wicked conduct, and promised it should 
 cease. The dying man, unable to answer her, 
 merely pointed his finger to Heaven, and then giving 
 his daughter and wife one last look of love, he ap- 
 peared to fall into a sleep from which he never 
 awoke. 
 
 Angela remained in the house beside the dead 
 body of her father, and when she returned from 
 the funeral, which took place next day, her violent 
 bursts of sorrow suddenly ceased, and with great 
 
 calmness and decision she told her mother, that 
 from that moment she intended to give up her 
 evil life. Her mother was only too happy to have 
 her child again restored to her, and the next two 
 days pa^ sed over without anything material occur- 
 ring, except Angela having again embraced the 
 Reformed faith. 
 
 On the third day the Count Dedia, who had 
 been absent at his country seat at the time Angela 
 had left the house, returned, and to his great 
 astonishment found she had quitted him. He 
 received from the servant who had accompanied 
 her the address of her father, and he immediately 
 went to the house to find her. He was received 
 by her mother, who told him the change which had 
 come over her daughter, and of her determination 
 to quit the wicked course of life she had been 
 leading, and that she had again embraced the 
 Reformed faith. The Count was greatly astonished 
 at what he heard, and declared he would not leave 
 the house till he had seen Angela. This the 
 widow refused to allow, while the Count insisted 
 on it, till at last the altercation was put a stop to 
 by the entrance of Angela herself. She implored 
 the Count never to attempt to see her again, while 
 he with tears begged her to return to him. 
 Angela remamed inflexible, and the Count rushed 
 from the house threatening the widow with his 
 vengeance. 
 
 When the news of Angela having qui .ted his son 
 reached the old Count, it occasioned him no little 
 satisfaction ; but when he found that the young 
 man s ill retained his attachment to the girl, he 
 came to the conclusion that such behaviour was 
 unnatural, and that he must be under the influence 
 of witchcraft. He applied to the head of the Fran- 
 ciscans for assistance and advice, and the monk 
 received him with great sympathy, and listened to 
 his tale with much interest. Without the shghtest 
 hesitation he decided that there was witchcraft 
 in the matter, and that it was a fit and proper 
 subject to be brought under the notice of the 
 law. The same evening both Angela and her 
 mother were arrested, and placed in the dungeons 
 of the Palazzo della Ragione. The next day the 
 poor girl was put to the torture to extort from her 
 that she was a Protestant, and had used witchcraft 
 to obtain the power she possessed over the young 
 Count. The first she acknowledged triumphantly, 
 the latter she indignantly denied. Her mother 
 afterwards was put to the torture to induce her to 
 confess that, in conjunction with her daughter, she 
 had been guilty of witchcraft. From some expres- 
 sions which escaped the poor woman under the 
 torture she was suffering, the suspicion of witchcraft 
 became stronger, and she was a second time sub- 
 jected to it. She then withdrew the expression she 
 had made use of the first time. 
 
 The Superior of the Franciscans now thinking 
 there was sufficient proof against them of witch- 
 craft, they were tried for that crime as well as for 
 heresy. Biagio Rosetti, then a barrister, defended 
 both mother and daughter, and with great ability. 
 
9° 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 But the Judge decided against them, and the 
 mother was sentenced to have her goods confis- 
 cated to the State, and the daughter was sentenced 
 to death. 
 
 The confiscation of her goods of course left the 
 poor widow destitute ; and it was then that Gero- 
 lamo returned from the army to Ferrara to assist in 
 supporting his mother, which he contrived to do 
 with considerable difficulty. After the establish- 
 ment of the regular Inquisition under tlje manage- 
 ment of the Dominicans, he wa? arrested on a 
 charge of heresy. Somewhat lax in his- religious 
 ■principles perhaps, from the wild, soldier-like life 
 he had led with the army, and having an intense 
 love for his mother, who was now blind, and had 
 never recovered from the lameness occasioned by 
 the torture to which she was subjected, and who 
 he perceived would die of starvation without his 
 assistance, he, without hesitation, -consented to 
 become a member of the Catholic religion, and was 
 immediately afterwards liberated. He then took 
 the hovel in which his mother now lived, and had 
 since contrived to maintain her by whatever little 
 employment he could obtain. 
 
 To return to Teresa and Madonna Ponte. 
 During the day nothing occurred worthy of notice, 
 and they remained . in a state of great anxiety. 
 Towards evening Gerolamo made his appearance in 
 his official costume. To Ponte's inquiries why he 
 had not called sooner, he said that three cases of 
 the plague had been discovered in Ferrara that day, 
 and he had been too much occupied with his 
 melancholy duties to allow him a moment's leisure. 
 To Teresa's question as to whether he had heard 
 anything of her father, he replied that he had not, 
 the house was still closed, and he could obtain no 
 information of him whatever. The only subject of 
 interest he had to communicate was that he had 
 heard to a certainty that her Highness the Duchess 
 Rende was confined a strict prisoner in the dun- 
 geons of the castle, and that no one was allowed to 
 approach her but her gaolers, that her children had 
 been separated from her, and that in all probability 
 she would be tried and punished as a heretic. He 
 added that inquiries were being made for those 
 included in the proclamation who had escaped, 
 and severe punishments were threatened on those 
 who concealed them. 
 
 At the receipt of this intelligence Madonna Ponte 
 cast a terrified glance on Teresa, who was too much 
 absorbed in her anxiety respecting the fate of her 
 father to notice it. Not so, however, Gerolamo. 
 He entreated Madonna Ponte not to be alarmed, 
 as come what might he wouM keep their secret. 
 
 "Quite right, my son,?'^id the old woman, 
 " quite right. Whatever we jpay hitherto have had 
 to blame ourselves with, we have not yet had inno- 
 cent blood on our hands, and this I say apart from 
 the gralfiude I owe the Judge, which will never be 
 extinguilhed as long as I retain my senses." 
 
 "And now, ladies," said Gerolamo, "let me 
 know of what use I can be to you this evening, for 
 I can remain with you but a few minutes longer. 
 
 To-morrow I will call on you as early as I possibly 
 can, although I fear that will not be till evening, 
 for, from all I can understand, there are many sus- 
 pected cases of plague in the city, and we shall 
 have a busy day's work of it." 
 
 The widow, finding they had sufficient necessaries 
 in the house to last them for another day, told her 
 son they should require nothing further that even- 
 ing, and Gerolamo, after advising the ladies not to 
 quit the house nor be seen by any one, bade them 
 good night, and going to the river-side, was ferried 
 over to his quarters in the Lazaretto. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. — THE PLAGUE. 
 
 AjsroTHER night and the greater part of the follow- 
 ing day now passed over the heads of Madonna 
 Ponte and Teresa. Although both acutely felt the 
 painful position in which they were placed, its 
 efiects on their minds was of a totally different 
 character. Madonna Ponte, utterly depressed by 
 her misfortune, seemed to have sunk into a sort of 
 terrified lethargy, occasionally wakening up to listen' 
 to the conversation which from time to time 
 passed between her companion and the blind 
 widow, and then again relapsing into her former 
 state. Teresa, although, as before stated, suffering 
 terribly from distress and anxiety respecting her 
 father, which was still her principal sorrow, was far 
 more self-possessed than her companion. As time 
 wore on, however, her anxiety seemed somewhat 
 to diminish, probably calculating that as she had 
 received no news from him the chances of his 
 escape were the greater; and as hour after hour 
 passed without intelligence of him, the plausibility 
 of her reasoning increased. Indeed, she now began 
 to draw out in her own imagination the probable 
 means by which her father and Ochino had effected 
 their escape. She felt persuaded that when 
 Ochino quitted the palace, and arrived at the 
 house of the Judge, and related to him the 
 occurrences of the day, they had taken imme- 
 diate steps for their departure. She remem- 
 bered it had been arranged that Camille Gur-i 
 don should engage a boatman to convey Ochino 
 down the river to Commacchio, where he would be 
 able to find means to transfer himself to Venice. 
 She further accounted for her father's absence from 
 his house when the agents of the Inquisition visited 
 it, by the fact that he and Ochino were both con- 
 cealed in the lodgings of Camille Gurdon. The 
 more the poor girl thought over the subject, the 
 more natural did it appear, and the greater became 
 her good feeling for the young Swiss. 
 
 In proportion as Teresa's fears for her father 
 diminished, her anxiety concerning the Duchess 
 increased. And here, it is but fair to Madonna 
 Ponte to state that she appeared, when Teresa 
 could attract her attention, to sympathise with 
 her companion in her anxiety, her love for the 
 Duchess being great, although at the moment it 
 was almost entirely absorbed in her care for her 
 own safety. Although Teresa felt greatly grieved' 
 for the indignity which had been offered to the 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 91 
 
 Duchess, she never for one moment imagined her 
 life to be in danger. She seemed to think it would 
 be utterly impossible for human wickedness to 
 proceed to extremity with a person in so elevated 
 a position as Rende, and from time to time she 
 entered into conversation with the blind widow, and 
 explained her views respecting the Duchess, in all 
 of which she fully agreed. 
 
 As evening approached they began to feel ex- 
 ceedingly anxious at the non-appearance of Gerolamo, 
 and questioned their hostess as to the probable 
 cause. The widow replied, that doubtless there had 
 been more cases of the plague that day, and in 
 consequence Gerolamo had been more occupied. 
 
 This reason, given considerably at hazard, was a 
 correct one. The well-defined cases of, the pesti- 
 lence which had appeared the day before had 
 aroused the energies of the municipality, and they 
 had that day been occupied in completing the 
 regulations, not only to relieve the plague-stricken, 
 but to prevent the spread of the malady. 
 
 It was not before evening had drawn in that Gero- 
 lamo made his appearance. He seemed languid 
 and tired, and after depositing his banner and bell 
 in a corner, he seated himself on a stool, and, lean- 
 ing his head on his hand, remained for some 
 moments silent, and apparently utterly exhausted. 
 
 " We have been long and anxiously expecting 
 you, my son," said his mother; " what has happened 
 to detain you ?" 
 
 " Nothing, mother, to me personally. I am 
 merely tired and out of humour, as well as disgusted 
 with my occupation. I have, however, no alter- 
 native, and having accepted it must go through it." 
 " Is the danger of the pestilence diminishing?" 
 inquired Teresa. 
 
 "On the contrary, it is on the increase. The 
 reason we did not leave the Lazaretto before noon 
 arose from the fact that the Signore della Sanita held 
 their meeting there this morning, and discussed, 
 among other things, the duties and powers of the 
 Becca-morti. We had little, however, to learn 
 which we did not know before, but that little was 
 most inconvenient to me, as it keeps me from 
 being as useful as I could wish." 
 
 " Surely," said Madonna Ponte, " no one suspects 
 we are here?" 
 
 " No one that I know of," said Gerolamo. " The 
 regulation I spoke of does not bear on you ladies 
 in any way. It is simply an order which has been 
 issued for us who are in the employ of the Laza- 
 retto, that if any one shall attempt to enter 
 the city by night or day, except in his official 
 garb, he shall infallibly be hung. It was past 
 noon when we lett the Boschetto, and between 
 that time and this I believe there has not been a 
 single street in Ferrara which I have not visited, 
 till my legs tremble under me from fatigue, and my 
 arm aches with perpetually ringing the bell." 
 
 " Did you have many fresh cases ?" asked Ma- 
 donna Ponte. 
 
 " Several, and bad cases they were. Pray 
 Heaven it may not spread mrther, or ii so, the 
 
 effects will be terrible indeed !" said Gerolamo. " I 
 have been told by an old man who used to occupy 
 himself with catching vipers and scorpions, that 
 there are no more to be had, and that they are the 
 only true remedy against the plague." 
 
 " My son," said the old widow, " your poor father 
 always ridiculed the idea. I am sorry to hear you 
 entertain it." 
 
 "My dear mother, I have no opinion on the 
 subject," was Gerolamo's reply. " I am no doctor. 
 They maintain, however, that it is the only sure 
 remedy, and from them alone the true plague oil 
 (totio contro peste) can be made. Dr. Castania 
 gained a large fortune by the sale of it." 
 
 " Your father said Castania was little better than 
 a plausible quack, whose sole anxiety was to fill his 
 own pockets, caring but little for his patients." 
 
 " Very probably, mother," said Gerolamo. " But 
 let that pass. He received the fruits of his dis- 
 honesty last year." 
 
 " In what way ?" 
 
 " I do not exactly know, but it is stated that 
 during the last visitation of the plague, finding 
 vipers were scarce, he adulterated them with earth- 
 worms, and then from the oil he extracted sold it 
 as the genuine rolio contro peste. Whether it was 
 for that, or some other act of dishonesty, I know 
 not, but he has been banished from Ferrara, and 
 another man supplies his place." 
 
 " But who informed you that vipers were no 
 longer to be had ?" asked his mother. 
 
 " An old man who has lately joined the Becca- 
 morti, and who formerly used to strike the hours 
 in the Rigobello tower. Afterwards he took ser- 
 vice under Dr. Castania, and people say he was one 
 of those who assisted in mixing the earth-worms 
 with the vipers, and that he was flogged for it. 
 He wanted to be employed in the Holy Office, I 
 understand, having got a theory of his own that the 
 appearance of the pestilence is due to the Duchess 
 having introduced heresy into the city, and that the 
 only way of gaining the favour of Heaven will be 
 by exterminating all heretics." 
 
 " And what do your companions say to his 
 arguments ?" asked his mother. 
 
 " My companions, mother, have too much work 
 to do at present to pay much attention to his non- 
 sensical remarks. Even if they had more leisure, I 
 doubtwhether they would havemuch efiect on them." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because they are hardly men much given to 
 entertain abstruse points of theology. They are, 
 most of them," he continued in a voice of sadness, 
 "poor broken-down creatures like myself, who 
 care but little what befalls them. With perfect 
 indifference they remove the dead and the dying, 
 knowing full well the extreme probability that they 
 may catch the pestilence themselves, and perfectly 
 aware that each moment while doing their duty 
 they carry their lives in their hand." 
 
 "Are the sick, then, entrusted to a brutal 
 ignorant set of men who care nothing for them ? " 
 inquired Madonna Ponte. 
 
92 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 "I should hardly be justified in stating that my 
 companions cared nothing for the sick confided to 
 them, although, doubtless, the scenes of misery they 
 see must to a considerable extent blunt their sense 
 of feeling. At the same time, there are hardly any 
 among them, possibly with the exception of the old 
 man of whom I spoke to you, brutal or naturally 
 hard-hearted. All have a certain amount of intel- 
 ligence, and most of them, like myself, have seen 
 better days. Another reason, I should state, which 
 has kept me frOm calling here before, is a certain 
 fear I am under of the old man I named to you. 
 I don't know whether I am prejudiced against him, 
 for certainly I can discover nothing positive, but 
 
 he appears incessantly to be watching me. After 
 all, perhaps his eyes are merely attracted towards 
 me from seeing mine perpetually riveted on him. 
 This excuse came several times before me, and I 
 have in vain endeavoured to shake it off. How- 
 ever, fortunately I shall hope to be rid of his 
 society in a couple of days." 
 
 " How so ?" inquired his mother. 
 
 " Because he finds his present work too laborious 
 for him, and has made an application to Dr. Boschi 
 to be allowed to remain as one of the attendants 
 on the sick at the Boschetto, instead of going 
 round with the cart. The doctor told him he 
 must continue his work till he found some one to 
 
 take his place, and as he expects he will be able 
 to do so to-morrow, I shall then have the satisfac- 
 tion of being rid of him." \ 
 The old man alluded to by Gerolamo was no other , 
 than Carlo Pedretti, who, before entering on his new \ 
 avocations, had been out of employment for some : 
 days, and had began to feel somewhat severely the j 
 pangs of hunger. It was not, however, without con- 
 siderable reluctance that he entered into the service 
 of the Lazaretto. He had entertained hopes, after 
 hearing the proclamation, of being employed in 
 some humble and indirect manner by the Holy 
 Office. Scenting the persecution afar off, he 
 imagined they would require a more numerous 
 staff than they at present had. He was already 
 
 acquainted with a relative of one of the lay brothers 
 of the Dominican convent, and he applied to him 
 for his patronage. This he obtained, as far as 
 introducing him to the lay brother, who, being by 
 no means prepossessed with Pedretti's appearance, 
 declined speaking in his favour tD any ol the superior 
 officials. Pedretti, however, was one of those men 
 by no means apt to take an answer in the negative, 
 and he pleaded his cause with so much pertinacity, 
 that at last the lay brother promised that in case he 
 could show that he had it in his power to be useful 
 to the Holy Office he would speak to one of the 
 superior officials in his behalf, but until that proof 
 had been obtained, it would be useless for him to 
 make further application on the subject. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 93 
 
 Pedretti humbly thanked the lay brother for the 
 promise he had made him, and then began to turn 
 over in his mind in what manner he could prove 
 his capacity of being of service to the Holy Office. 
 For some time he could hit upon no plan, although 
 he was continually trying to rack his iDrains for 
 that purpose. At last the idea occurred to him 
 whether he might not be able to show his zeal in 
 the holy cause, and at the s ,me time gratify a 
 private pique of his own. For a long time past, he 
 had entertained considerable animosity against a 
 certain Pietro Zoppo, a lame man, who was era- 
 ployed to strike the hours in the clock over the 
 Rengiero, in the Palace of Justice. Pedretti's 
 animosity against this man arose from several 
 causes. In the first place, he considered that the 
 Rigobello clock tower being the highest in Ferrara, 
 he had the right to give the time to the other bell- 
 strikers. This precedence Pietro refused to admit, 
 and had more than once struck the hours some 
 minutes before Pedretti had done so on the bell of 
 the Rigobello tower. Annoyed at the presumption 
 of his rival, Pedretti the next time resolved to pre- 
 cede him in striking the hour, which he did by 
 some minutes. Pietro easily understood the chal- 
 lenge, and the following hour again was the first to 
 strike, and the result was the creation of consider- 
 able scandal, and both men were soundly repri- 
 manded, and threatened with dismissal should it 
 occur again. Another cause for Pedretti's animosity 
 was that, in consequence of the clock in the Rigo- 
 bello tower having been made to strike by ma- 
 chinery, he lost his employment, while Pietro con- 
 tinued in his, and this was a Subject of intense 
 annoyance to him, as he considered Pietro to be 
 more favoured than himself. 
 
 It now occurred to Pedretti that if he laid an 
 accusation of heresy against Pietro, he should not 
 only be able to have his revenge upon his old 
 rival, but would probably gain the appointment for 
 himself, and be enabled to re-enter into his original 
 regular habits of life. With this intent, he called 
 on the lay brother, and told him he had very 
 strong reason to believe that Pietro was little better 
 than a heretic The lay brother questioned him on 
 his reasons for coming to such a conclusion ; but 
 Pedretti contradicted himself so flatly, that the lay 
 brother told him he would have nothing more to say 
 to him, and that he might go about his business. 
 Finding that the plague had made its appearance, 
 Pedretti next tried to turn an honest penny by catch- 
 ing vipers ; but being unsuccessful, he applied for an 
 appointment in the Becca-:iiorti, and was admitted. 
 Gerolamo, having somewhat recovered from his 
 fatigue, was now asked by Teresa if he had heard 
 anything of her father. He told her he had not, and 
 that whenever he made any inquiries, which was not 
 very frequent, as people seemed to dislike speaking 
 to him from the dress he wore, he judged by the 
 answers he received that her father was still at 
 liberty, and had most probably made his escape 
 across the Venetian frontiers, as it was not likely a 
 prisoner of his importance would have been arrested 
 
 without the news spreading rapidly over the city. 
 He had some idea of being able to obtain mors 
 certain information the next day ; but he could not 
 promise. He was acquainted with a ferryman, 
 strongly suspected of being a heretic, who knew as 
 much about what was passing in Ferrara as the 
 Podesta himself. Of course, it would be impossible 
 for him to seek this man out, as in doing so he 
 should be obliged to leave his duties ; but if chance 
 threw him in his way, or if he had the opportunity 
 of passing near the ferry, he would endeavour to 
 see him, and obtain information on the subject. 
 
 Madonna Ponte then inquired if he had heard 
 any news of the Duchess. He replied that he had ' 
 nothing more to tell them about her. She was 
 still imprisoned in the castle, and beyond that fact 
 nothing was known. A strict guard was placed 
 round the castle, and those who made any inquiry 
 on the subject received so severe a rebuff for their 
 pains,, as by no means to encourage others to 
 follow their example. 
 
 After a little more conversation, Gerolamo took 
 up his bell and banner, and wishing the ladies good 
 evening, left the house. 
 
 The blind widow, soon after her son's departure, 
 brought forth from her scanty stores a small bottle 
 of oil, and with great dexterity, and without spilling 
 a drop, she filled a lamp with it, and then trim- 
 ming the wick, she lighted it, and placed- it on the 
 table. Madonna Ponte now drew a stool beside 
 it, and taking from her pocket a small Protestant 
 book of prayers, commenced reading, while Teresa 
 and the blind widow continued the conversation 
 which had dropped when Gerolamo came in. The 
 widow could hardly agree with Teresa that the 
 imprisonment of the Duchess would so soon ter- 
 minate. 
 
 " If," she said, " it were merely a question be- 
 tween the Duchess and her husband, you might be 
 right, but once in the hands of the Inquisitors, little 
 mercy is likely to be shown her unless she recants." 
 
 " Of that," said Teresa, somewhat warmly, " there 
 is no danger. Her Highness is too deeply attached 
 to the Protestant religion ever to change. You do 
 her an injustice; does she not?" slie continaed, 
 addressing Madonna Ponte. 
 
 " I do not know what you are speaking of," said 
 she, raising her eyes from her book, and gazing at 
 Teresa with an anxious pallid countenance. 
 
 " I was saying that there was no danger of the 
 Duchess recanting, from any severity the Inquisi- 
 tion might use against her." 
 
 " I perfectly agree with you. She would be as 
 little likely to give up the good cause as our leader, 
 John Calvin himself." 
 
 Teresa now spoke to her hostess of the probable 
 escape of Ochino and her father. On this subject 
 they were better agreed, both firmly believing that 
 they had reached the Venetian territory, where, for 
 the time at any rate, they would be in safety. 
 
 " I devoutly hope it may be so," said Teresa. 
 " My only fear is that if my father hears of the 
 proclamation he will return to save me. I would 
 
9'\ 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 rather a thousand times run any danger than that 
 he should imperil his life to aid me." 
 
 " Did you not tell me that some one had assisted 
 them in their flight ? " asked the blind widow. " If 
 so, he might perhaps return to Ferrara and bring 
 you some intelligence of your father." 
 
 " But he will not be able to find me," said 
 Teresa, hesitatingly. 
 
 "Do you' not know where this person lives? 
 My son could no doubt be able to find some 
 excuse for seeing him." 
 
 " I do not know," said Teresa. 
 
 " Is he to be depended on ?" inquired the widow. 
 
 " To be depended on ! " exclaimed Teresa, with 
 warmth. " He is as true as the day." 
 
 " I did not wish to cast any suspicion on him," 
 said the blind widow, who, fortunately for Teresa, 
 was unable to see the blush that at the moment 
 suffused the girl's face. " In these times it is 
 difficult indeed to know in whom we may trust. 
 What is his name ? " 
 
 " Camille Gurdon." 
 
 " That is not an Italian name. Is he a foreigner?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Teresa. " He is a Swiss, and a 
 friend of our respected John Calvin." Then finding 
 the conversation becoming somewhat embarrassing, 
 by way of changin^the subject she asked Madonna 
 Ponte, when she had finished reading, to lend her 
 the book, as she had not her own with her. 
 
 Madonna Ponte turned her face towards Teresa, 
 who uttered a low cry of alarm at the strange change 
 which had come over it. There was an expres- 
 sion of sickness upon it that proved she must be 
 seriously ill. Her colour was a deadly bluish 
 paleaess, and there was a wild haggard expression 
 of the eyes which almost seemed like delirium. 
 She gazed at Teresa for some moments in a be- 
 wildered manner. At length she said, " I do not 
 know what is the matter with me, my dear. I 
 feel no pain, and yet I hardly know where I am. ! 
 I wish you would get me a cup of water, for I feel '. 
 so faint. 1 do not think I could stand." 
 
 Teresa immediately filled a horn cup with water, 
 which she presented to her friend. Madonna j 
 Ponte, instead of taking the cup from Teresa's 
 hand, merely stared at her for a moment in a 
 bewildered manner, and then mechanically placing 
 her book in her pocket, she pushed the water aside 
 and hurriedly rose from her seat. Then staring 
 wildly around her for a moment, she attempted to 
 
 move past Teresa, when her strength seemed to 
 fail, and she fell senseless on the floor. 
 
 The cry of alarm uttered by Teresa now brought 
 the widow to her assistance, and together, but with 
 much difficulty, they contrived to raise Madonna 
 Ponte from the floor and place her on the bed. 
 Teresa now, under the direction of her hostess, 
 bathed her friend's temples with water, and used 
 the ordinary means to restore animation, but for 
 some time with little good effect. At last circula- 
 tion was restored, and with it wild delirium set in, and 
 they had great difficulty in restraining her. As night 
 advanced the delirium became stronger, and Teresa, 
 much alarmed, asked what they had better do. 
 
 " We have but one course to pursue," replied the 
 widow, " and that is to remain quietly by her till 
 morning." 
 
 " Is it not possible to procure assistance ? " asked 
 Teresa. 
 
 "Quite impossible. The city gates are already 
 closed, and there are none near us who could 
 render any assistance, even if they dared." 
 
 "Even if they dared?" said Theresa. "Do 
 you mean to say they would not help a fellow- 
 creature in distress?" 
 
 The widow made no reply for a moment, and then 
 said, " I am afraid in thiscase they would not." 
 
 " What then do you consider is the matter with 
 her?" 
 
 " Tell me first, has the colour of her face 
 changed?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Teresa, ." it is now a deep purple." 
 
 " Then the Lord have mercy upon us," said the 
 blind widow, " for He alone can save us ! I saw 
 too much of the plague the last time it visited this 
 city not to be convinced that the destroying angel 
 has visited us. AH we can do is to watch beside 
 your friend till morning, and then when we hear 
 the bell pass the house to apply for assistance." 
 
 Teresa was naturally terrified at these words, and 
 Madonna Ponte, being for the moment somewhat 
 calmer, the poor girl threw herself on her knees 
 and earnestly prayed that the life of her friend 
 might be spared, as well as her own and that of 
 the blind widow. Then, after placing herself re- 
 signedly in the hands of the Almighty, she rose 
 from her knees, and seating herself beside her 
 companion's bed, she resolved patiently to watch 
 till they could procure assistance the next morning. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 95 
 
 CHAPTER XX. — THE LAZZ\P.F.TTO. 
 
 KRESA, dur- , 
 ing the whole \ 
 of the night, | 
 adhered to her 
 resohition to 
 watch by the 
 bed-side of her 
 plague - strick- 
 en friend, her 
 anxiety ren- 
 dering her 
 totally insen- 
 sible to the 
 danger she 
 was incurring 
 as well as to 
 the fatigue her 
 duties occa- 
 sioned her. At 
 times so wild 
 was the deli- 
 rium of Ma- 
 donna Ponte 
 that she had great difficulty in keeping her in bed. 
 Nor in her efforts did Teresa receive much assist- 
 ance from her hostess, who, although most anxious 
 to help, was, from the nature of her infirmity, almost 
 useless. When day broke Madonna Ponte was 
 comparatively quiet, although the delirium still con- 
 tinued, haunting her with the idea that she was in 
 the power of the Inquisition, and shortly to be 
 tried for heresy. In this state she continued for 
 hours, Teresa watching by her attentively, her love 
 for the patient shutting her eyes to the ghastly 
 spectacle she presented. 
 
 As day advanced, Teresa and the blind widow 
 listened anxiously for the bell of the mortuary cart. 
 Not that they had any intention of sending their 
 friend to the Lazzaretto, but that they might get 
 Gerolamo to procure the attendance of a physician 
 when he entered the city. No sound, however, of 
 the bell was heard, and they were beginning to 
 deliberate what steps had better be taken, when the 
 door opened, and Gerolamo, in his ofificial dress, 
 entered. Casting his eyes on the bed, and seeing 
 the condition of Madonna Ponte he understood all 
 in a moment. The plague, in its worst form, had 
 broken out in the hovel. 
 
 " My son," said his mother, " when you enter the 
 city, send to our assistance a physician as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 " It would be useless,'' was Gerolamo's answer. 
 " No physician at present will leave the city. 
 Take my advice ; and painful as it may be to you, 
 when the cart again passes your house send her to the 
 Lazzaretto. Several reports have reached the Laz- 
 zaretto that the plague is rapidly spreading, aiid 
 we have already as many houses to call at as will 
 sufifice for one journey. But when we return we 
 
 may call here, or, perhaps, what would be better, I, 
 with a friend in whom I can trust, may come and 
 carry the poor lady down to the ferry-boat. This 
 would be the best plan, for all reasons, as then I 
 need not mention to the others the house she 
 came from, and so there would be no necessity 
 for you to be turned out, or the few goods you have 
 to be destroyed. The young lady could remain 
 with you in safety, and without fear of discovery." 
 
 " Nay," said Teresa, " if my friend goes to the 
 Lazzaretto, I will certainly accompany her.'' 
 
 " Pray do not entertain the idea for a moment," 
 said Gerolamo. " By doing so you would incur 
 the greatest danger, not merely of being discovered, 
 but of taking the malady yourself. Take my ad- 
 vice, and remain patiently where you are." 
 
 " I will not do so," said Teresa. " If my friend 
 goes I shall accompany her. I am sure if I had 
 been the one plague-stricken, and she had escaped, 
 she would have accompanied me ; and cowardly 
 indeed should I be if I forsook her." 
 
 " But, remember," said Gerolamo, " you can be 
 of no assistance to her there, even if Dr. Boschi 
 allows you to enter the building, which I very 
 much doubt. But I must not remain longer," he 
 continued, " or I shall be thought to be neglecting 
 my duties. In about two hours I expect to see you 
 again, and then I hope to find you more reasonable." 
 
 Gerolamo now left the house, and passing through 
 the gate of the Mizzona, hurried round to meet the 
 cart as it entered the next gate, so that he might 
 be able to lead it through the streets, warning 
 people to avoid it, and summoning those whose 
 houses were visited by the plague to bring out their 
 sick. The duties of the Becca-morti that day were 
 much heavier than those of the previous one. Not 
 only did they call at the houses named in the list 
 which had been sent to them the night before by 
 the city authorities, but at some others where fresh 
 cases had broken out that morning. 
 
 After having quitted the city, and when the cart 
 was on its way towards the ferry, Gerolamo placed 
 his bell and banner in the care of the driver. Then 
 whispering to the associate of whom he spoke, he 
 begged him to drop with him a little behind the 
 others while the cart proceeded on its way. When 
 they were out of hearing, he said to his friend — 
 
 " Will you come and help me to carry a patient 
 to the ferry-boat ? She is in the house you see close 
 by. I want nothing said about it, for it is my 
 mother's house, and I wish her to escape the visit 
 of the Sanita, otherwise all she possesses will be 
 destroyed by their orders, as well as the house 
 itself. She is blind, lame, and helpless, and all 
 she has in the world is little indeed. I wish to 
 preserve it for her, as well as the roof over her 
 head, as long as I can." 
 
 His companion readily consented, and the two 
 men now diverged to the house of the blind widow. 
 Gerolamo found Madonna Ponte much in the 
 
g6 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 same condition as when he left. She seemed 
 almost insensible, and the few words she uttered 
 proved that delirium still continued. No objec- 
 tions were now made either by the widow or Teresa 
 to the removal of the plague-stricken lady ; and 
 carefully taking her in their arms, Gerolamo and 
 his friend were proceeding to leave the house when 
 Teresa took up her candale, and prepared to place 
 it over her head. 
 
 " You surely cannot be so rash," said Gerolamo, 
 noticing her movements, " as to persist in accom- 
 panying your friend. Think for a moment of the 
 danger you are incurring." 
 
 " It is no matter what the danger may be," said 
 Teresa; "I will not allow her to go alone, and 
 I intend remaining with her till she gets well again, 
 or till death releases her from her sufferings." 
 
 For some moments Gerolamo looked at Teresa 
 attentively, almost doubting whether the delirium 
 which had afflicted her friend had not communi- 
 cated itself to her, and expecting to see in her face 
 the first symptoms of the malady itself, but the clear 
 complexion and calm resolute eye of the young 
 girl told him that he was fortunately mistaken. He 
 attempted once more to reason with her, but it 
 was of no avail, and he then called his mother to 
 interfere. 
 
 " My child," said the widow, " your love for 
 your friend does you great credit, I admit, but 
 although I admire the courage you show, remem- 
 ber that even courage itself may be pushed to a 
 point where it cannot be distinguished from 
 rashness. Be persuaded, and remain with me. 
 You can do your friend no good by accom- 
 panying her, and I am sure Gerolamo will take 
 every opportunity of informing you of her condition. 
 Remember, you may be of far greater use to her 
 when she recovers from the malady, if it pleases 
 God to spare her life, than in her present state." 
 
 " Mother," said Teresa, " I do not dispute the 
 force of your arguments, but leave my friend I 
 cannot. Say no more to me, I beg, but let me 
 have my own way, unreasonable as it may ap- 
 pear to you. I trust I may soon see you again. 
 If not, accept my thanks for the kindness you have 
 shown us ; and may God bless and reward you." So 
 saying, Teresa kissed the widow, and left the house 
 in company with the two men, bearing between 
 them the almost lifeless body of Madonna Ponte. 
 
 The conversation which had taken place in the 
 house of the widow almost prevented the coriige 
 irom reaching the ferry-boat before it started ; in 
 fact, the ferry-men had already become somewhat 
 impatient. On their comingnip, Carlo Pedretti, who 
 liad not yet been able to get a substitute for his 
 duties in the city, so as to allow him to remain 
 permanently in the Lazzarettp, turned a suspicious 
 glance on Gerolamo, and asked in a somewhat 
 authoritative tone of voice where he had found 
 that patient. Gerolamo rather indignantly told 
 him that, as he was the superior of the convoy, 
 he was not bound to answer any questions his 
 subordinates might put to him ; although anything 
 
 asked by Dr. Boschi, the Signori della Sanita, or 
 their officials, he was quite prepared to answer. 
 Pedretti said it was his duty to report any irregu- 
 larity ; whereupon Gerolamo told him he was in 
 error, and said that as soon as they landed he 
 would submit the question to the doctor himself for 
 decision. Pedretti having already asked a favour 
 of Dr. Boschi, at once saw the folly of getting 
 into trouble with him, and said to Gerolamo, that 
 he did not wish to have any interview with the 
 doctor on the occasion, as it was not a subject of 
 sufficient importance to make a fuss about. But 
 although he no longer addressed Gerolamo, he 
 kept muttering to himself in a vindictive manner, 
 in which the word " upstart" was more than once 
 plainly audible. Gerolamo, however, took no 
 notice of him, but entered the boat, and was 
 about to hand in Teresa, when the padrone, or head 
 ferryman, a good-natured looking middle-aged man, 
 gazing at her attentively (for in her haste she 
 had put on her candale in such a manner as to 
 leave her features plainly visible), said to her — 
 
 " Surely, pretty sposina, you are not rash enough 
 to visit the Lazzaretto ? Why, my child, you don't 
 know what sort of a place it is, or the sights you'll 
 see there. Are you mad enough, Gerolamo, to take 
 her over?" 
 
 " If she would take my advice," said Gerolamo, 
 " she would immediately return home ; but girls 
 are obstinate, and it's difficult to persuade them 
 when they are determined to have their own way. 
 Try what effect your arguments will have on her ; 
 I will second them willingly." 
 
 " I half suspect, my pretty child," said the 
 padrone, " that the best service I can render you 
 would be to cut short all argument and leave you 
 where you are. A man may love his own daughter, 
 but that's no reason why he should let her play 
 with fire when he finds her likely to set herself 
 in a blaze." 
 
 Teresa now became dreadfully alarmed at the 
 boatman's threat. Placing her hands together, her 
 beautiful eyes filling with tears as she spoke, she 
 implored him to allow her to accompany Madonna 
 Ponte. The poor woman, she. said, who had just 
 been placed in the boat was a dear friend of hers — 
 possibly the only one she had in the world — and 
 she could not bear the idea of leaving her now 
 that a misfortune had befallen her. 
 
 " Thaf s all very well," said the padrone ; " still 
 common sense ought to prevail on all occasions. 
 But I can't stand those tears, so get in if you will, 
 although your arguments go for nothing with me. 
 I never could bear to see a woman crying, and tears 
 in such eyes as yours I have not the courage to 
 resist, though I must say it goes to my heart to see 
 a pretty girl wilfully seeking her own destruction." 
 
 Gerolamo having assisted Teresa into the boat 
 and taken his place beside her, the two ferry- 
 men, with their ghastly freight of healthy, sick, 
 dying, and dead, pushed off from the bank 
 and rowed towards the landing-place of the Bos- 
 chetto. During their passage, Pedretti, who was 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 97 
 
 seated on the side of the boat opposite to Te- 
 resa, suddenly ceased his muttering, and regarded 
 the young girl with looks of intense interest, as if 
 determined to fix her features in his mind. Although 
 Teresa remained ignorant of the interest she was 
 exciting, not so Gerolamo, who, in his turn, re- 
 garded his subordinate with a threatening sternness, 
 which boded no good feeling. So intent, however, 
 was Pedretti in watching Teresa, that he was un- 
 aware of the gaze Gerolamo fixed on him. At 
 last Gerolamo could restrain his impatience no 
 longer, and he said to Pedretti — 
 
 " Do you know anything of this young lady, 
 that you stare so at her ? " 
 
 " I'm not sure," said Pedretti,* sullenly ; " it 
 strikes me I've seen her somewhere before." 
 
 " At any rate," said Gerolamo, " you will have 
 little difficulty in knowing her when you see her 
 again. But hark you, my friend," he continued, 
 " there appears to me to be more rudeness than 
 civility in your gaze, and I advise you to turn your 
 eyes another way." 
 
 Pedretti was about to answer Gerolamo in the 
 same tone, when Teresa, who had been attracted 
 by the conversation, put a stop to it by drawing 
 her candale carefully over her face, and screening 
 herself from his gaze. 
 
 " I don't think we've much to thank you for," 
 said the padrone to Pedretti. " Pretty faces are 
 not so common here that we can afford to lose the 
 sight of one when we have it. If you think your 
 own countenance offers us any compensation, you 
 are greatly mistaken." 
 
 Notwithstanding the ghastly nature of their 
 freight, and the deplorable condition of many of 
 their passengers, the other ferrymen and the Becca- 
 morti burst into a fit of laughter at the padrone's 
 attempt at wit, and Pedretti was attacked with 
 satirical jokes on the beauty of his countenance 
 till the boat had reached the landing-place, when 
 the attention of all was called to their duties. 
 
 Several assistants of the Lazzaretto now advanced 
 towards them to help them to remove the sick and 
 dead fcom Jhe boat. The latter were carried off 
 at once to the cemetery, and the former to the hall 
 of the Lazzaretto, where they were examined by the 
 surgeon on duty. At length Madonna Ponte was 
 brought before him, and Teresa entered the hall 
 at the same time. The surgeon had hitherto per- 
 formed his duties in a mechanical manner, merely 
 giving a gknce at the patient to ascertain whether 
 the malady was really the plague, and then, enter- 
 ing the name of the individual int^ book which 
 was open before him, he sent^JjSip'patients to the 
 cells appointed for their reception; 
 
 After the surgeon had ascertained that Madonna 
 Ponte was really infected with the plague, he in- 
 quired her name and address ; and here occurred a 
 terrible cause of alarm for Teresa. Recapring no 
 answer, the surgeon raised his eyes from r^fe book 
 before him, and, perceiving Teresa, placed his pen 
 beside him, inquiring with much interest what could 
 have induced her to visit such a place. 
 7 
 
 " I came with my friend," stammered Teresa. 
 
 " Not many of those who come here have such 
 friends," said the surgeon. " But, my child, this is 
 no place for you. You had better go back again 
 at once." 
 
 " Pray let me remain with my friend," said the 
 young girl. 
 
 " I have not the power to allow you," he said, 
 " and what is worse, I cannot on my own authority 
 insist on your leaving the island. I must submit 
 the case to Dr. Boschi; but, in the meantime, take my 
 advice and leave this terrible place without delay." 
 
 " I would prefer remaining," said Teresa. 
 
 " You can do so then, if you please, till I have 
 brought the subject under the notice of the head 
 physician. In the meantime tell me the name and 
 address of your friend." 
 
 This was a terrible question indeed for poor 
 Teresa, and she hesitated for some moments before 
 replying. 
 
 " Pray tell me her nafne,'' continued the surgeon, 
 " that I may enter it in the book." 
 
 Teresa now advancing close to him whispered, 
 " Madonna Ponte." 
 
 " I did not hear you," said the surgeon, looking 
 up in Teresa's face, on which an expression of 
 great anxiety was apparent. "Tell ine again, 
 what did you say ? " 
 
 Teresa again hesitated, looking at the different 
 assistants in the room. The surgeon instantly 
 caught her idea, that she was afraid of being over- 
 heard.' 
 
 " All of you leave the room," he said in a tone 
 of authority ; " and two of you take the patient to 
 her cell," giving the number of it. 
 
 Gerolamo and another man instantly went off 
 with Madonna Ponte, while others left the hall by 
 the front door. The surgeon then thinking that he 
 and Teresa were alone, was on the point of repeat- 
 ing his question, when he saw standing at no great 
 distance from them, but in such a position as he 
 would least likely be seen. Carlo Pedretti. Rising 
 from his seat, the surgeon said to Pedretti with a 
 stern voice — 
 
 " Did you not hear my orders that all should 
 leave the hall ? How dare you disobey me ? Come 
 hither, sir, and let me see you, that I may know 
 you again." 
 
 Pedretti, now with great alarm depicted on his 
 countenance, obeyed. 
 
 " I shall now remember you," said the surgeon, 
 " and do not forget what I say to you. Let me 
 again find you disobeying any orders given you, 
 and your back shall be scourged so severely that 
 the marks will never be obliterated to the day of 
 your death. Now leave the hall at once." 
 
 Pedretti immediately left, muttering some excuse 
 about not having heard the order, and the surgeor 
 and Teresa were alone. 
 
 " Now tell me, my child," he said to her kindly, 
 "the name of your friend." 
 
 " Madonna Ponte," replied Teresa. 
 
 The surgeon looked inquisitively in the girl's 
 
98 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 face, as if the name was not strange to him, and 
 then said — 
 
 " Madonna Ponte ? And what is her occupation, 
 and where does she live?" 
 
 Teresa looked at him in an imploring manner 
 without making any reply, as if begging him not to 
 press the question. The man of science — who had 
 been watching her attentively, and supposing that 
 she was a member of the upper classes ; or perhaps 
 that she and her friend were among the number of 
 those proscribed on account of their religion, now 
 said to her significantly — 
 
 " My dear child, I will question you no more on 
 the subject. I can fill in the name and address if I 
 require it. But now to return to your visit here. 
 I have not the power to order you away, t^it as 
 soon as Dr. Boschi arrives — ^and I expect him every 
 minute — I shall persuade him to insist on your 
 immediately quitting the island, and that from no 
 other than a friendly feeling towards you. In the 
 meantime, if you persist in remaining, you must 
 promise me that you will not attempt to leave the 
 hall without my permission, otherwise I shall be 
 under the painful necessity of ordering a guard to 
 be placed over you. Let me assure you, every care 
 shall be taken of your friend, quite as much as if 
 you were attending on her yourself. Now give 
 me the promise I require." 
 
 Teresa, finding it was useless to argue further, 
 promised that she would remain quietly in the hall 
 till the head physician arrived. The surgeon then 
 politely placed a seat for her near the 'wrindow 
 looking towards the river and the city, and recalling 
 his attendants, continued his duty. 
 
 For more than an hour Teresa sat at the window 
 impatiently watching for the arrival of Dr. Boschi, 
 and endeavouring, though without success, to settle 
 in her mind the best way of addressing that eminent 
 functionary, so as to produce such an effect on 
 him as would gain her permission to remain with 
 Madonna Ponte. At last she saw several persons 
 arrive at the opposite landing of the ferry, and 
 from the respect shown to one of them, she 
 rightly imagined he was the person whose arrival 
 she awaifed with so much anxiety. She watched 
 for some moments the progress of the boat, and then 
 getting impatient at what, in her mind, appeared 
 the tardiness of the rowers, she rose from her seat and 
 went to the door to meet him as he entered. Here 
 she was joined by the surgeon, who said to her — 
 
 "You had better remain where you were, for 
 the doctor will probably have some business to 
 attend to before he can speak to you." 
 
 " But," said Teresa, " it is almost an affair of life 
 or death to me ; why can I not speak to him at 
 once ?" 
 
 "Because the life or death of many will occupy 
 his attention when he enters. Of this you may be 
 certain, that you shall see him and plead your own 
 cause." 
 
 "Will you plead in my favour?" asked Teresa. 
 ' I cannot tell you how grateful I shall be if you 
 will." 
 
 " For your own sake I certainly will not. All I 
 can say to you is, that I will not attempt to bias 
 him till you have spoken to him. Now go back to 
 your seat like a sensible girl. Judging from those 
 I see with him, he will have some important instruc- 
 tions to give before he can attend to you." 
 
 Teresa offered no further opposition, but went 
 back to her seat; and in a few minutes after 
 the doctor entered the hall, followed by the 
 persons who had crossed the ferry with him. Had 
 Teresa not been preoccupied with her own sorrow, 
 their appearance might reasonably have excited 
 her curiosity. They seemed all of the same station 
 in life, and had the appearance of respectable 
 burghers. Belonging to a very influential body of 
 men in Ferrara — that of the guild of barbers, they 
 filled a sort of void in the grades of the population 
 of the city, being a class inferior to that composed 
 of the lawyer, physician, or regular surgeon, yet 
 higher than that of. the smaller tradesmen. In the 
 middle ages barbers not only followed the occupa- 
 tion usually assigned to the hairdresser, but prac- 
 tised as well the minor operations of surgery, such 
 as bleeding, tooth-drawing, and bandaging. In 
 visitations of the plague and other fatal epidemics 
 which so frequently visited Europe in those days 
 they were of immense service; and in the muni- 
 cipal records of Ferrara they are frequently named 
 as receiving large rewards for their ability and 
 courage in attending the plague-stricken, and are 
 spoken of with as much respect as the regular 
 members of the medical profession. Those who 
 had accompanied Dr. Boschi were some ten or a 
 dozen who had volunteered for service in the Laz- 
 zaretto, and were looked upon, not only by their 
 own craft, but by the Signori della Sanita as men 
 much to be respected, and scarcely less worthy ot 
 honour than the doctors themselves. 
 
 When they had assembled in the hall the head 
 physician addressed them at some length, pointing 
 out to them their duties, explaining the different 
 modes of treatment, and the necessity of showing 
 kindness and consideration to the sick. Thea 
 assigning them to the different surgeons under 
 whom they were to act, he called an assistant to 
 show them the rooms set apart for their private use. 
 
 When the barbers had left the hall the surgeon 
 called the attention of Dr. Boschi to the presence 
 of Teresa, telling him that she had a favour to ask 
 of him. The great physician, who had not hitherto 
 observed her, seemed much surprised, and ap- 
 proaching her, asked, with much kindness in his 
 tone, what he could do for her. Teresa, although 
 she felt somewhat nervous in the presence of the 
 eminent man of science, told him that a dear 
 friend of hers had the evening before been attacked 
 by the plague, and had that morning been brought 
 into the Lazzaretto, and that she wished to remain 
 to nurse her. 
 
 " It is impossible," said the doctor, evidently 
 surprised atvthe request. " I cannot entertain the 
 idea for a moment." Then turning to the surgeon, 
 he continued, " How did she come here, when the 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 99 
 
 rules so strictly prohibit any stranger setting foot 
 on the island ?" 
 
 " She came over in the ferry-boat, with her sick 
 friend, and without my knowledge," said the sur- 
 geon. " She much wanted to go into the wards, 
 but I would not allow her." 
 
 " You acted rightly," said the physician. " Who 
 is her friend, and from what part of the city do 
 they come ?" 
 
 The surgeon, instead of answering, showed the 
 doctor the entry he had made in the book. Finding 
 the name of Madonna Ponte, and no address, Dr. 
 Boschi inquired the reason of it being omitted, 
 remarking that the orders of the Signori della 
 Sanita were imperative that the address as well as 
 the name of every patient should be inserted. 
 The surgeon drew the physician aside, and whis- 
 pered a few words in his ear, to which he evidently 
 listened with great interest When he had con- 
 cluded, Dr. Boschi made no further inquiry. For 
 a moment he looked at the young girl before him, 
 and then said kindly to her — 
 
 " Once more, my dear child, I cannot allow you 
 to remain here, and must request that you will return 
 without delay. In saying this, I assure you I speak 
 only for your welfare. I see the ferry-boat is getting 
 ready to cross. Now, without further hesitation, 
 go with it. Be assured every attention shall be 
 shown to your friend." Then perceiving that 
 Teresa was about to offer further objections, he 
 continued, "Now do not cause me to speak harshly, 
 for I should do so most unwillingly, but I must be 
 obeyed." He then said to the surgeon, " Would 
 you accompany her to the boat ?" 
 
 The surgeon, taking Teresa, who was now weep- 
 ing bitterly, by the hand, led her towards the 
 water's edge, making a sign to the padrone to await 
 his arrival. At the moment the Becca-morti were 
 entering the boat, Pedretti, who was among them, 
 not wishing again to be observed by the surgeon, 
 made some excuse and slipped away. The surgeon, 
 when he reached the boat, told the padrone to put 
 the young lady ashore with all civility, adding that 
 in the evening he should have a word to say to 
 him for having brought, without permission, a 
 stranger to the Lazzaretto. 
 
 Teresa now entered the boat, and as soon as they 
 were out of hearing of the surgeon, who stood on the 
 shore watching them, the padrone said to Teresa — 
 
 " I suspect, my pretty lass, you have got me into 
 trouble for ferrying you over contrary to the 
 doctor's orders. No matter ; I have had worse sins 
 to answer for. He cannot hurt me much, that's one 
 good thing ; for he knows he would have no little 
 difficulty in getting another to supply my place." 
 
 Teresa was in too much sorrow to listen to the 
 man's remarks. Gerolamo now took his seat beside 
 her, and whispering to her to be of good comfort, 
 promised that if he had the opportunity he would 
 call the next morning and inform her how Madonna 
 Ponte was progressing. Teresa thanked him for his 
 kindness, and in a few minutes afterwards the boat 
 reached the shore. On landing, and while the 
 
 horses were being placed in the cart, preparatory 
 to the Becca-morti taking their afternoon patrol 
 through the city, Gerolamo conducted Teresa to his 
 mother's house. They found the poor widow sadly 
 depressed at the loss of the society of her two com- 
 panions. She received Teresa with much affection, 
 and Gerolamo then left them to attend to his duties. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. — ^THE RELIGIOUS PROCESSION. 
 
 Simultaneously with the appearance of the 
 plague, the persecutions of the Inquisition com- 
 menced. At first sight it might appear that the visi- 
 tation of this terrible malady would, for a time, have 
 allayed the ardour of the Holy Office ; but even had 
 the great body of the inquisitors and the clergy been 
 content to suspend operations for some time longer, 
 the energetic Oriz would not. On the contrary, he 
 rather looked upon the threatened pestilence as a 
 means to an end. He endeavoured to instil into 
 the minds of the Dominicans the necessity of teach- 
 ing the people, by every means in their power, that 
 the plague which was then hanging over the city 
 was an indisputable sign of the divine anger, 
 caused by the apathy which had hitherto existed 
 among them on the subject of heresy, not only in 
 allowing the pernicious doctrines taught by Calvin 
 and Luther to spread without any attempt to 
 counteract them, but actually, in many instances, 
 permitting them without any censure to receive 
 the patronage and support of the noble and the 
 learned. He urged them in the instructions they 
 gave to their congregations, to impress upon them 
 the fact that no matter how high in authority in 
 the state an individual might be, even although he 
 were the monarch himself, he was still subject to 
 the censure of the Church, and that while the 
 strictest obedience and respect should in all worldly 
 matters be shown to him, it was, at the same time, 
 the duty of every true Catholic to range himself 
 against his ruler, should the Holy Church consider 
 him deserving of reprobation. 
 
 To the illustrious Duke Ercole II., then reigning 
 in Ferrara, these remarks could not apply, for he 
 had always shown himself to be a true and faithful 
 son of the Church, though it was much to be re- 
 gretted that he had permitted, without sufficient 
 restriction, the Duchess Ren^e, not only to adopt 
 the errors of Calvinism herself, but to shield with 
 her authority those who had fallen into the same 
 damnable heresy. Happily his Highness had at 
 last been convinced of the necessity of placing 
 the illustrious lady, his wife, under restraint, until 
 she should admit the error of her ways. He 
 trusted that the priests would impress upon their 
 congregations the necessity of praying to the Virgin, 
 that she might incline that otherwise estimable lady 
 to listen to the voice of the preachers of their faith, 
 so that she might soon be brought ."lack to the 
 bosom of the true Church. He further requested 
 them to inform their hearers that his Highness 
 having, though with great pain, taken this step, and 
 also that of imprisoning the difjferent members of 
 the Duchess's household who professed the falsely- 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 called reformed doctrines, it was the duty of all 
 good subjects to follow the example of their Prince, 
 and to assist the Holy Office and the Church in 
 general by all the means in their power to put a 
 stop to the plague of heresy which had lately sprung 
 up among them, and was a thousand times more 
 pernicious and terrible in its effects than the mortal 
 malady then threatening the city with its visitation, 
 — a malady in which all good Christians might see 
 the finger of Heaven raised in wrath against the 
 citizens of Ferrara, for the indifference they had 
 hitherto shown towards the true Church. 
 
 He further urged the advantage of keeping alive 
 in the hearts ot the people the necessity for ap- 
 peasing the divine wrath by prayers in the churches, 
 processions, frequent confessings, and espq^ially 
 by rendering energetic assistance to the Holy 
 Office in finding out those tainted with heresy, 
 that they might be reasoned with and persuaded to 
 return to the bosom of the true Church ; or, should 
 they still remain obdurate, that they might receive 
 such punishment as would be a warning to others. 
 
 Although this was the plan of campaign which 
 Oriz had decided on adopting, he was too good a 
 diplomatist to issue instructions on his own autho- 
 rity. For powerful as the Inquisition was in Fer- 
 rara, it could not be denied that in it, as in every 
 other city in Europe, a large proportion of the 
 population, including some enlightened Catholics, 
 looked upon the institution with little favour, con- 
 sidering it rather a well-organized system of espion- 
 age of a worldly nature, than a legitimate agency 
 of the true Catholic Church. This Oriz well knew, 
 and therefore obtained permission to issue theprocla- 
 mation to the clergy in the name of the Archbishop 
 of Fecrara from the Archiepiscopal palace, thus 
 taking from it, to a considerable degree, the appear- 
 ance of its being merely an act of the Holy Office. 
 
 But the subtlety of Oriz did not stop there. 
 Knowing well that whenever the plague threat- 
 ened to visit Ferrara, it was the custom of the 
 noblemen and richer inhabitants immediately to 
 quit the city, for their country seats till the danger 
 was over, he obtained from the Duke an order 
 prohibiting any persons, under pain of banishment 
 and confiscation of their goods, from leaving the 
 city without special authority. He then took good 
 care that so many impediments should be thrown in 
 the way of receiving such permission that the num- 
 ber of applicants would be very small. Thus, while 
 the order of the Signori della Sanita strictly pro- 
 hibited any person from entering the city who had 
 not passed through quarantine, or who had arrived 
 from any infected locality, offering at the same 
 lime a liberal reward to those who should detect 
 offenders, the Duke interdicted persons from leav- 
 ing it without permission, and Oriz was now certain 
 that in a short time he should have the heresy in 
 Ferrara enclosed within the walls, and thus be able 
 effectually to stamp it out. 
 
 With this short digression, we will now return to 
 Teresa Rosetti, whom we left, after her visit to the 
 Lazzaretto, in the dwelling of the blind widow. 
 
 During the evening, which was a sad one indeed, 
 little conversation took place between them, Teresa 
 still being depressed by the shock she had received 
 during the day, and the poor widow feeling keenly, 
 not only the loss, but the almost certain death 
 which awaited one whom the day before she had 
 known in good health, and for whom she enter- 
 tained such kindly feelings. 
 
 When night was closing in they received a visit 
 from Gerolamo, but 't was merely to inform them 
 that he had been unable to gain any intelligence 
 of Teresa's father, or to see the ferryman at San 
 Giorgio of whom he had spoken the day before. 
 He hoped, however, he should do so on the morrow, 
 and if he succeeded he would immediately call 
 and inform them if his friend Giacomo had got 
 any news of the Judge, and also bring information 
 to Teresa how the sick lady was progressing. 
 Teresa thanked him for his promise, and after a 
 little more conversation, in which he informed them 
 that there seemed to be a lull in the spread of the 
 pestilence, he bade them good evening and re- 
 turned to the Lazzaretto. 
 
 If the conversation between the blind widow and 
 Teresa flagged before the visit of Gerolamo, it 
 ceased altogether after his departure. Indeed all 
 their energy seemed to have vanished, and they 
 sat silently together in the dark, the thought not 
 even occumng to the widow of the necessity of 
 lighting the lamp for the accommodation of her 
 guest, while Teresa, on her part, seemed uncon- 
 scious of the omission. About an hour after Gero- 
 lamo had left them, they separated for the night, 
 Teresa merely throwing herself, dressed as she was, 
 on the bed, on which her plague-stricken friend 
 had rested the night before, heedless of the danger 
 she thereby incurred of contracting the malady. 
 
 Hour after hour passed and no sleep came to 
 Teresa, although as night wore on the different 
 objects she had seen and the thoughts which had 
 occurred to her during the day were perpetually be- 
 fore her mind. At last the incessant change of ideas 
 became positively painful to her, and sitting up 
 she pressed her hands to her head and endeavoured 
 to collect her thoughts. She remained in this 
 state for some time, and at length determined to 
 pray for greater resignation and peace of mind, as 
 well as courage to support her amid the difficulties 
 and dangers of her position. Her prayer over, she 
 felt great relief, and remained in a quieter state 
 till daybreak, when she rose and mechanically 
 occupied ^herself in putting the room in order, a 
 work in which she was shortly afterwards joined 
 by the widow, who then prepared the breakfast. 
 Although both seemed in better spirits than on 
 the evening before, their morning meal was eaten 
 almost in silence. Teresa now partly opened the 
 door of the house, and placing a stool near it, seated 
 herself in such a position as commanded a view 
 of the ferry, the point of departure on the Bos- 
 chetto island being visible from the widow's house. 
 
 For more than an hour after she liad taken her 
 seat near the door, there were no signs of move- 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 lOI 
 
 ment in the island ; but then, to her great joy, she 
 saw a number of men, and among them several who 
 appeared to be in the dress of the Becca-morti, 
 assemble near the large ferry-boat, and shortly after- 
 wards enter it. The boat then pushed off from the 
 shore, and Teresa's heart beat high with anxiety 
 as she thought that, in a short time, she should 
 receive intelligence of the condition of Madonna 
 Ponte. She watched the boat till it had reached 
 the centre of the stream, when to her dismay she saw 
 it change its course, and proceed rapidly down the 
 river. Without saying a word she rose from her 
 seat and, opening the door, looked towards the 
 landing-place opposite the gate of the Mizzona, but 
 tjie horse and cart for the sick were not to be seen. 
 The truth then flashed across Teresa's mind, that the 
 convoy had been ordered to enter the city by one 
 of the other gates ; and as Gerolamo would, of 
 course, be obliged to go with them, he would not 
 be able to bring her any tidings of Madonna Ponte 
 till he returned to the Lazzaretto, either at midday 
 or in the afternoon. 
 
 Teresa again entered the house and told the 
 widow that Gerolamo had, doubtless, been ordered 
 to enter the city by another gate, and that they 
 would not therefore receive any intelligence of Ma- 
 donna Ponte till some hours later. The widow could 
 offer her no consolation except an expression of 
 regret at the delay, and they both subsided into 
 their former silence ; but although Teresa said 
 nothing, her mind was actively employed, indeed, 
 so much so, that she was thrown into a state of 
 strong nervous irritability, in which she began to 
 conjure up all imaginary dangers to her father. 
 She felt greatly annoyed, and almost angry with 
 Camille Gurdon, to whom she look.d as the pro- 
 tector of her father, beaiuse he had not informed 
 her whether he had succeeded in helping him to 
 escape from the Ferrarese territory. 
 
 Her thoughts again reverted to Madonna Ponte, 
 till at last the certainty of her death would hardly 
 have caused the poor girl greater pain than that 
 occasioned by her present state of doubt. Then 
 she thought of her mistress the Duchess Rende, 
 and conjured up the painful solitude she was ex- 
 periencing, for she could hardly realise the fact, 
 though Gerolamo had assured her of its truth, that 
 the Duchess was imprisoned in a cell of the casde, 
 without any of her friends or followers being 
 allowed to approach her. 
 
 At last, as some relief, Teresa again opened the 
 door and looked out. Gerolamo was not, however, 
 to be seen, and she re-entered the house, when 
 it occurred to her to visit the city and endeavour to 
 discover the dwelling of Camille Gurdon, and 
 inquire of him what had been the fate of her father. 
 A certain amount of maiden bashfulness for some 
 moments prevented her from acting on this im- 
 pulse, until she reflected, that probably she might 
 meet Gerolamo in the city, when she would be able 
 to hear how he had left Madonna Ponte. 
 
 Teresa no longer hesitated, but arranging her 
 candale in such a manner as to expose her lace as 
 
 little as possible, she told the widow of her deter- 
 mination. The widow attempted to dissuade her, 
 but Teresa was obstinate, and leaving the house, 
 walked towards the Porta della Mizzano, where 
 she found several people waiting for permission to 
 enter, all of whom had to present themselves 
 before the surgeon on duty. Teresa, unaware of the 
 regulation, attempted to pass, but she was stopped by 
 one of the guards and told she must wait her turn 
 before she could go on. One by one, those who 
 had assembled were admitted to the presence of 
 the surgeon, who had a small office assigned to him 
 near the entrance of the gate. Those who answered 
 his questions satisfactorily were admitted into the 
 city, if they could prove they resided at no great 
 distance from the walls. Others^ on the contrary, 
 were sent back again. As the greater portion 
 were peasants wishing to attend the market, few 
 questions were asked, and in a short time Teresa's 
 turn came, and she was shown into the surgeon's 
 office. In it she found two gentlemen, one of whom, 
 seated at the table was the surgeon on duty. 
 Standing near to him was another with whom he 
 was in partial conversation, and to Teresas great 
 satisfaction she recognised in him the surgeon who 
 had received her at the Lazzaretto the day before. 
 
 The one seated at the table, who seemed some- 
 what surprised at a girl of Teresa's appearance being 
 among a number of peasants, was aboitt to address 
 her, when the surgeon standing by his side whis- 
 pered in his ear — 
 
 " Ask no questions, let her pass." 
 
 " You may go on," said the other without hesita- 
 tion, though appearing surprised at his friend's re- 
 mark. 
 
 Teresa then left the room, and her place was im- 
 mediately taken by another applicant. 
 
 Once inside the city walUs, Teresa saw it was 
 necessary to fix on some plan of action. The first 
 idea was to discover, if possible, the residence of 
 Camille Gurdon, but to it she had no clue what- 
 ever. At last it occurred to her to apply at the 
 University. She knew he had been attending the 
 law courses held there, and it was more than 
 probable that some of the officials might be able 
 to give her the information she required. Know- 
 ing but little of the city, as it was perhaps the first 
 time in her life she had ever been a hundred yards 
 from the Palace by herself, she felt greatly em- 
 barrassed as to which street she should take. At 
 last she timidly addressed a respectable woman 
 passing by, and asked her if she could direct her 
 to the University. The woman did so without 
 hesitation, and Teresa started off in the direction, 
 avoiding as much as possible the inquisitive glances 
 of those she met on her way. She had occasion, 
 however, more than once afterwards to inquire her 
 road, until at length she succeeded in reaching the 
 street where the building was situated. She now 
 rapidly advanced to the gates as if fearing that her 
 courage might give way, and on entering the arch- 
 way, saw six or eight students laughing and talking 
 together. 
 
I02 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Teresa for a moment hesitated, when one of the 
 students perceiving her, advanced, and with an 
 appearance of courtesy, but considerable im- 
 pertinence in his manner, asked what he could do 
 to serve her, adding that it was seldom they had 
 the honour of a visit from such a pretty girl. Teresa 
 \Vas now terribly embarrassed, but not wishing to 
 go without an answel-, she hesitatingly inquired if 
 he could give her the address of the Swiss lawyer, 
 Camille Gurdon. 
 
 "We have not had the pleasure of seeing him 
 for some time," said one of the Students, advancing 
 with the same mock modesty as his fellow, "but I 
 am quite as amiable as he is. Pray let me be your 
 advocate and advise you. I can assure you, you 
 will find me most respectful and attentive." 
 
 " Do not listen to him," said a third, advancing 
 to her and addressing het in the same tone, " for I 
 can assure you he is not be trusted. He is a very 
 wild, thoughtless young man, while I am considered 
 
 by the Professors to be the steadiest in tlie law 
 class." 
 
 The other students now gathered rotind her, and 
 the poor girl's terror became so great that much as 
 she wished to obtain the address of Camille Gurdon, 
 she turned round and ran hurriedly from the place. 
 The students seemed inclined tofollowher,butatthe 
 moment one of tlie Professors entered the building, 
 restoring something like order among the young men, 
 and Teresa had thus an opportunity of escaping. 
 
 She now determined to goto her father's house and 
 see if it were still closed. She took a wrong direction, 
 and after losing herself in a lab3rrinth of streets at 
 the back of the Este Palace, she found herself in the 
 Piazza between the Cathedral and the arcades of 
 the Palace of Justice. For some moments she 
 stood to consider whether she should cross the 
 Piazza in which had assembled many persons, or 
 return, and having decided on the latter, she was 
 just entering the street she had left, when a crowd 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 103 
 
 of persons pushed her with such violence, as not 
 only prevented her retiring, but forced her from the 
 arcades with them. They still pressed on behind, 
 while those in front were driven back by some 
 soldiers of the guard, and municipal mace-bearers, 
 to divide the crowd so as to allow a procession 
 to pass through it on its way to the Cathedral. 
 This was one of those religious processions pro- 
 posed by Oriz. It was one of great pomp 
 and magnificence. Celebrated as Ferrara was 
 among the cities of Italy for such exhibitions, 
 its population had rarely witnessed one of a more 
 imposing description, and this was considered all 
 the more creditable to the ecclesiastical authorities 
 charged with its organization, on account of the short 
 notice they had received for preparation. The pro- 
 cession, which had already visited the more cele- 
 brated churches in the city, was headed by a body 
 of horsemen of the Duke's guard in full uniform. 
 Then came a body of ducal trumpeters, and these 
 were followed by one of the confraternities of lay- 
 men in their white robes, with hoods which com- 
 pletely covered their faces, but allowed the wearers 
 to see without being themselves recognised, and 
 carrying lighted wax tapers in their hands. After 
 them appeared a number of men two and two, dressed 
 to represent the prophets, and these were succeeded 
 by a band of boys in white robes with wings, 
 made of cut paper, who sustained the part of angels.* 
 Then followed a platform on wheels on which 
 was seated a man with a false grey beard, and 
 dressed in a flowing white robe to represent the 
 Almighty. A number of the parochial clergy in 
 their robes followed, and after them three asses 
 laden with focJ, a giant bearing a club on his 
 shoulders, a live bear led by its keeper, and the 
 three magi, arrayed in imitations of eastern dresses. 
 At a short distance behind these came another plat- 
 form on wheels, on which was seated on a chair of 
 state a virgin and child. Then another lay confra- 
 ternity in brown robes and hoods, in form resem- 
 bling those already mentioned. These were fol- 
 lowed by men dressed as devils, who were 
 being flogged by St. Paul and St. Bernardo. 
 It is hardly necessary to state that the blows 
 given were of the feeblest description, the two men 
 representing devils probably being friends or rela- 
 tives of the two saints employed in punishing them. 
 A movement now took place in the crowd of 
 spectators, occasioned by the advance of a high gilt 
 crucifix, followed by a bishop , bearing in a mag- 
 nificently chased reliquary a hand of St. Agatha. 
 The moment of its passing was for Teresa one of ter- 
 rible embarrassment. All crossed themselves when 
 the crucifix passed, and bent on their knees at the 
 sight of the relic, while she, unable to retire, stood 
 a self-convicted heretic in their midst. When the 
 relic had passed, and those near her rose from their 
 knees, they all regarded her with looks of great 
 surprise not unmixed with indignation. It is possible 
 
 • In the account books of the municipality of Ferrara there is 
 frequent mention made of purchases of waste paper to decorate the 
 wings of angels in religions processions and festivals. 
 
 their anger might have developed itself in some 
 rude remarks or actions, but fortunately at the mo- 
 ment their attention was withdrawn from Teresa to 
 a group then passing in the procession. It con- 
 sisted of a dead Christ on a platform borne on men's 
 shoulders, and surrounded by the disciples, with 
 whom were mingled a philosopher, St. Dominic, 
 St. Francis, and St. Sebastian. Then came another 
 platform on wheels, drawn by a buffalo, with an 
 image in wax placed on it, representing the dead 
 body of the Virgin Mary, and the procession was 
 closed by a body of soldiers of the Duke's guard. 
 
 The crowd now divided into two parts, one 
 pressing forward to enter the Cathedral with the pro- 
 cession at the principal gate, while the other made 
 for the side door, hoping thereby to obtain a view of 
 the ceremonies which were to be performed in the 
 building, and which was fitted up with great magni- 
 ficence, the scenery and other decorations being far 
 more worthy of a place in a theatre than in a 
 church, and strangely at variance with the simplicity , 
 which characterizes Protestant worship. 
 
 When the crowd had somewhat dispersed Teresa 
 made another attempt to retire from the Piazza, 
 and had nearly reached the arcades under the 
 Palace of Justice, when she heard a sound which 
 at once excited her attention., It was that of a large 
 hand-bell, such as Gerolamo' used when making his 
 round. Teresa stopped and turned her eyes to 
 the spot from whence the sound proceeded, but 
 as it was at a great distance, she was unable to dis- 
 tinguish the bell-ringer. Presently, however, a person 
 approached quickly from the spot from whence the 
 sound came, and said to an acquaintance — 
 
 " The Virgin has already taken the city under 
 her protection, I believe." 
 " How so ? " asked the other. 
 " The Becca-morti have not a person in the cart, 
 although they have been out more than two hours." 
 " The saints be praised," was the reply. " But 
 whither are you going so fast ? " 
 
 " To get a good place in the Cathedral." 
 " I expect you will have some difficulty ; it is 
 already quite full." 
 
 " No matter, I will try at any rate," was the 
 reply, and the person passed on. 
 
 The bell now rang again, but nearer than before, 
 and the moment after Teresa perceived the banner 
 which Gerolamo carried rising above the crowd. 
 She immediately advanced, and found the cart ap- 
 proaching, Gerolamo the while ringing his bell, 
 and the crowd which surrounded it keeping at a 
 respectful distance to avoid contact with the Becca- 
 morti. As soon as Teresa recognised Gerolamo, 
 without hesitation she walked up to him and said, — 
 " Oh ! how I have longed to see you ! Tell me 
 hov/ is my friend ? " 
 
 " She continues alive, and that is all," said Gero- 
 lamo. "But why did you leave home? Return 
 to my mother's immediately, and there you will 
 find your father. Go at once," he continued im- 
 patiently. " Do you not see every one looking at 
 you. Go, or you will be arrested." 
 
104 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Teresa, bewildered and overjoyed at the intel- 
 ligence she had received, left Gerolamo, and had 
 proceeded but a few paces when one of the Becca- 
 morti quitted the cart, and advancing to an officer of 
 the municipality, who was standing by, said to him — 
 
 " Seize that girl. She has disobeyed the orders 
 of the Signori della Sanita." 
 
 " How so?" inquired the officer, who looked at 
 the man with an expression of extreme disgust on 
 his countenance. 
 
 " She was yesterday in the Lazzaretto. She came 
 across in the ferry-boat with a friend. who was 
 plague-stricken, and a number of others in the 
 same condition, as well as several who had died from 
 the disorder. It is' agairist the law for her to set 
 foot in the city. I aenounce her, and claimL^the 
 reward. My name is Carlo Pedretti. I have a 
 right to the reward, and will have it." 
 
 " I do not believe-you," said the officer, still un- 
 willing to arrest the girl. ' 
 
 . " I tell you it is true," said Pedretti, " and all the 
 other Becca-morti know it. And if you don't believe 
 me, ask Dr. Bosehi himself. I understand you : you 
 want the reward for yourself." 
 
 The officer now perceived that thci affair was 
 serious. Still he appeared to hesitate, when an old 
 woman advanced and said — 
 
 " And I denounce her as a heretic. She not only 
 just now refused to cross herself when the crucifix, 
 passed in the procession, but she would not kneel 
 to the relic of the blessed St. Agatha when every- 
 body else did. All saw she would not kneel. 
 But, remember, I claim the reward. You let her 
 go, if you dare, and I will complain to the Holy 
 Office. Listen, neighbours," she continued, ad- 
 dressing those near her; "he will not arrest a 
 heretic when she is pointed out to him." 
 
 A considerable crowd had now collected, at- 
 tracted by the denunciations made by Carlo 
 Pedretti and the old woman against Teresa, and 
 the excitement continuing to increase, the officer, 
 evidently against his will, arrested Teresa, and con- 
 ducted her into the receiving-room of the Palace 
 of Justice, where accusations against prisoners were 
 first heard. Here they found the syndaco's sub- 
 stitute, who on seeing a young girl of such 
 respectable appearance brought before him, in- 
 quired, with much surprise on his countenance, 
 what offence she was accused of. 
 
 " She is accused of two offences," was the man's 
 reply. " First of disobeying the orders of the 
 Signori della Sanita in entering the city after having 
 yesterday visited the Lazzaretto, and second of 
 heresy." 
 
 The substitute on hearing the latter charge 
 contemptuously shrugged his shoulders, and then 
 casting a kindly glance at Teresa, inquired who it 
 was that had made the absurd charge of heresy 
 against so young a girl. 
 
 " An old woman who is now outside." 
 
 " Why did you pay attention to her ?" said the 
 substitute. 
 
 " She had collected a crowd round her, many of 
 
 whom seemed to side with her, and to prevent a 
 disturbance T thought it best to bring the ,young 
 girl before you." 
 
 After a moment's hesitation the syndaco's substi- 
 tute said, " Call in the old woman, and let us hear 
 what she has to say." 
 
 The woman was now brought into the room, 
 followed by several of her companions, whom the 
 officer in vain attempted to keep out. 
 
 " What is your accusation against this young 
 girl?' .asked the substitute. ■ 
 
 " Of being a heretic," replied the old woman. 
 " She refused , to cross , herself when the crucifix 
 passed in the procession, and to kneel before the 
 relic of the blessed St, Agatha." 
 
 " Did you tell her to do it ? " asked the substitute. 
 
 " No, I did not," said the woman. " That was 
 no affair of mine." 
 
 " Then," continued the substitute, at the same 
 time glancing kindly at Teresa as if to give her a hint 
 what answer to make, " how do you know that she 
 saw the crucifix and the relic ? " 
 
 The old woman replied, that the girl could see 
 as well as slie could. 
 
 " I am by no means certain of that," said the 
 substitute, looking impressively at , Teresa, as if to 
 claim her particular attention to his words. " You 
 : surely did not willingly show any disrespect to the 
 crucifix and the blessed relic ?" 
 
 Teresa remained silent. 
 
 " Speak, girl," the substitute continued somewhat 
 impatiently. " If you did not see the relic, say 
 so, and I will not entertain the accusation." 
 
 " But I claim my reward," said the woman. 
 
 " Once more," continued the substitute to Teresa, 
 and this time almost imploringly, and without pay- 
 ing any attention to the old woman, " can you not 
 answer my question, and say that you did not see 
 the relic and the crucifix, or you would not have 
 shown them any disrespect ? " 
 
 Teresa still continued silent. 
 ■■ " I have no choice," said the substitute, with a 
 look-of sorrow. " I must enter the charge of heresy, 
 against you. Now as to breaking the sanitary laws. 
 Who is it makes this accusation against her ? " 
 
 " One of the Becca-morti named Carlo Pedretti," 
 said the officer who had arrested Teresa, " and he 
 claims the reward offered by the municipality for 
 the detection of offenders. He also says that Dr. 
 Bosehi is aware of the fact." 
 
 " She must also be detained on that charge," 
 said the substitute. " Place her in a cell by herself 
 so that she may not communicate the plague to 
 others if she has it. In the meantime we must 
 inform the Holy Office of her arrest." Then turn- 
 ing to Teresa, he continued, " What is your name, 
 my girl, and where do you reside ? " 
 
 In a moment the idea flashed across Teresa's 
 mind how much mischief might occur if she 
 answered the question. At the same time being 
 unwilling to state a falsehood, she replied — 
 
 " Pray do not ask me the question, for I cannot 
 tell you." 
 
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 H 
 
 S 
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 1^ 
 a 
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 M 
 
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 H 
 
 a 
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 C3 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 107 
 
 " But I must have an answer," said the substitute. 
 
 " I dare not tell you," said Teresa beginning to 
 weep. 
 
 " Listen, my poor girl," said the substitute in a 
 kind tone of voice, "the question must be answered, 
 if not to me to the syndaco, who, fortunately for 
 you, is not at present in the building." 
 
 " I cannot tell you my name," said Teresa. 
 
 " Had he been here," continued the substitute, 
 without noticing Teresa's remark, " he would not 
 only have insisted on your answer, but probably 
 would have put you to the torture to obtain it. Now 
 listen to me," he said slowly and impressively, " can 
 you not tell me your name and address ? Of course 
 it does not matter to me who you are or where 
 you live, as I should personally take no trouble to 
 make further inquiries about you. So you see it 
 will be better for you to give me your name and 
 tell me where you live now, than when you have to 
 do so suffering from the torture cord. Now take 
 my advice and tell me your name and address." 
 
 " I cannot," said Teresa, after a moment's hesita- 
 tion. " It is impossible." 
 
 " You must have your own way then," said the 
 good-natured substitute. " I am sorry for it. Take 
 her away, and see that she has no communication 
 with any of the other prisoners." 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. THE ESCAPE. 
 
 We must now leave Teresa in her solitary cell 
 in the prison of the Palazzo della Ragione, and 
 return to her father and Bernardino Ochino, in the 
 house of the boat-builder at Ponte-Lagoscuro. The 
 reader will remember that at the time we left them, 
 a few of the Protestants of the district were about 
 to meet in secrecy, alarmed at the report which had 
 reached them of the persecutions having broken 
 out in Ferrara, and rightly fearing they might in 
 a short time extend to themselves. Their meet- 
 ing presented a singular and not unpicturesque 
 scene. The bright calm beams of a clear full 
 Italian moon lighted up the scenery of the river, 
 while on a carpenter's bench in a part of the 
 workshop farthest from the river was placed a 
 lamp, which shed its light over a translation of 
 the Holy Scriptures belonging to Frederigo, and 
 which now lay open for Ochino's use. The vener- 
 able man was kneeling before it, and his small 
 congregation having devoutly placed themselves on 
 their knees around him, reverently and earnestly 
 joined in the prayer he was offering up, that God 
 would take the few children of the scattered flock 
 there assembled under his protection, and give 
 them help and consolation, together with courage 
 and endurance to sustain them in the persecutions 
 with which they were threatened. 
 
 When they rose from their knees Ochino read a 
 portion of the Scriptures, from the Old and New 
 Testaments, and then addressed them on the diffi- 
 cult position they, and the scattered Protestant 
 Church throughout the whole territory, were now 
 placed. He touched eloquently and forcibly on the 
 spiritual despotism exercised by the Church of 
 
 Rome, in not permitting the faithful to believe any- 
 thing but that which was approved by the Pope, 
 who, like the rest of mankind, was, at the best, 
 but fallible. He insisted that confessions and 
 absolutions, pardons and indulgences, together 
 with prayers to the saints, and the fire of purgatory, 
 were but inventions devised by the Papacy for the 
 enthralment of men's minds and consciences con- 
 trary to the word of God. Pointing out to them 
 how Daniel had prophesied the coming of the 
 Pope, saying that he should induce men wickedly 
 to break the promises which they had made to 
 God, he urged them to set at nought the idea, 
 that as God was angry with man, and Christ could 
 not sufficiently pacify his wrath, the Pope must 
 stand forward as our advocate, thus (as Daniel had 
 prophesied) transposing the time of grace to the 
 time of the law, and that of light to that of darkness. 
 " Better, my brethren," he said, " endure all the 
 persecutions than admit so grievous a blasphemy. 
 I beg you to pray earnestly for courage to support 
 the oppression which threatens you, and submit to 
 the fate which may be in store for you with the 
 same courage and resignation as soldiers show on 
 the field of battle." 
 
 The most profound attention was given by the 
 congregation to Ochino's discourse, and when he 
 had concluded they one and all thanked him warmly 
 for the consolation and encouragement they had ob- 
 tained from it. For more than an hour afterwards he 
 remained conversing with them, and then Frederigo 
 suggested the propriety of their dispersing one by 
 one, so as to avoid attracting the notice of their 
 neighbours. His advice was taken, and the little 
 meeting gradually scattered, each member of it 
 respecttxilly kissing the pastor's hand, and bidding 
 him farewell with many expressions of affection and 
 respect. 
 
 When the friends in the boat-house were left 
 by themselves, they began to talk seriously over 
 the best plan to be adopted for Ochino's escape. 
 Frederigo suggested that they should cross the river 
 and continue their road northward till they arrived 
 at the canal which led to Commacchio. They could 
 there call at the house of a Protestant friend, and 
 should they find him within, they could remain with 
 him and determine what further steps to take. If 
 this friend should be from home, they could either 
 continue their road by ■ land to Venice, or by the 
 canal to Commacchio. This plan was decided on, 
 as combining more advantages than any other. 
 Should they be followed they would have a better 
 opportunity of eluding their pursuers, as the canal 
 diverged almost at a right angle to the road to 
 Venice, and with a little care they might be able to 
 conceal the road they had taken. This uncertainty, 
 combined with the danger of attempting to seize a 
 a fugitive in Venetian territory without a warrant 
 from the Republic, offered to Ochino an almost 
 positive certainty of escape. 
 
 Ochino now put on his cowl and wallet,' and pre- 
 pared himself for the journey. They then took 
 leave of Frederigo, and entering the boat crossed 
 
£08 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 to the other side of the river, Giacomo taking as 
 much care as possible to avoid being seen from the 
 shore. Shortly afterwards they reached the Venetian 
 side of the river, where they parted, Ochino and 
 the Judge shedding tears, and each seeming to 
 be under the impression that it was the last time 
 they should meet in their earthly pilgrimage. Their 
 sad parting over, Ochino, accompanied by Paulo, 
 who was to act as his guide on the journey, were 
 put ashore, and the Judge Rosetti proposed to 
 Giacomo to return to Ferrara with all speed, as he 
 was in a state of intense anxiety respecting the fate 
 of his daughter. With all Giacomo's exertions, 
 however, the pace was but tardy, nor did there 
 appear any probability of his reaching Ferrara 
 before the middle of the next day, when fortunai»ely 
 they saw by the shore a light tow-boat to which 
 the horses were at that moment being attached. 
 Giacomo, who was acquainted with almost every 
 boatman on the river, immediately rowed his boat 
 in that direction, and finding he knew the man in 
 charge of it, requested as a favour that he would 
 allow him to affix his boat to the stern of the other. 
 This was willingly accorded, and the Judge also 
 promised the man with the horses a considerable 
 reward if he reached Ferrara at an early hour the 
 next morning. 
 
 The offer was willingly accepted, and the boats 
 started off together at a much more rapid pace than 
 before, and early the next morning Giacomo reached 
 his house, there being fortunately no persons in 
 sight at the time. Giacomo was able to conceal 
 the Judge in a small outhouse without being ob- 
 served, where it was proposed he should remain 
 during the day, Giacomo promising that if he were 
 
 not aiTested himself, he would, while at work on 
 the ferry during the day, make every inquiry in his 
 power as to what had taken place in Ferrara since 
 they had been absent, and then in the evening, when 
 others had retired to rest, they could determine 
 what should be their future movements. 
 
 Nor did Giacomo fail to keep his promise. He 
 worked the ferry during the whole of the day, 
 giving evasive answers to his wife and son when 
 they inquired what journey he had been on. Being 
 a remarkably shrewd, clear-headed man, he soon 
 discovered from conversation he had with the dif- 
 ferent passengers he ferrifed over, that persecutions 
 or movements against the Protestants had hardly 
 yet extended beyond the walls, although consider- 
 able activity had been shown in arresting all per- 
 sons suspected of heresy within the city. He also 
 learnt to what an extent the plague existed, and the 
 danger there was of its spreading. The intelligence 
 he had received respecting the Duchess and her 
 attendants only confirmed that which he had already 
 obtained — namely, that the Duchess was im- 
 prisoned in the castle, that many of her attendants" 
 had been incarcerated, and that liberal rewards had 
 been offered for the apprehension of tlie others. Of 
 the movements of the Holy Office he could gain 
 but little intelligence, their operations being con- 
 ducted with so much secrecy. Still, there was a 
 report that several of those arrested were likely to 
 be placed on trial, and if found guilty and obstinate, 
 would be executed or severely punished as examples 
 to others. Of Teresa and Madonna Ponte he could 
 hear nothing. Nor was this surprising, as of all the 
 attendants on the Duchess, they were perhaps the 
 two least known. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 109 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. — TERESA IN PRISON. 
 
 HEN the Sig- 
 n o r i d el la 
 Sanita had dis- 
 charged their 
 duties, they, 
 with the po- 
 desta, and the 
 syndaco and 
 $* his substitute, 
 3 before whom 
 Teresa had 
 been brought 
 the previous 
 day, descended 
 to the room in 
 which the pre- 
 liminary exa- 
 minations of 
 accused per- 
 sons were con- 
 ducted, to hear 
 reports on the 
 condition of 
 the prison, and to decide on the future disposal 
 of the prisoners. When the head warder made 
 his appearance, he stated that the prison was 
 at present so full that were the plague to break 
 out among those confined within its walls, the 
 result would be of the most lamentable descrip- 
 tion. The syndaco then looked over the list of 
 prisoners to ascertain if any could be discharged, 
 or drafted off to other prisons. Unfortunately the 
 number of such was few, as most were incar- 
 cerated either on charges of heresy, or of har- 
 bouring heretics; this, however, being more the 
 result of the reward offered by the Inquisition for 
 their apprehension, than from any very ardent 
 wish of the inhabitants of Ferrara to injure their 
 Protestant brethren. 
 
 Although the seat of the Inquisition was esta- 
 blished in the Dominican monastery, the business of 
 the Holy Office was conducted in a long building 
 at the rear, having a prison underneath. This, 
 however, was far from being large enough for 
 all the Protestants who had been arrested since 
 the arrival of Oriz, and the prison in the Palace 
 of Justice was therefore brought into requisition 
 and soon filled. Daily some ot the prisoners were 
 sent to the Dominican convent for examination, 
 and those who recanted, either under the torture or 
 from dread of it — and, unfortunately, they were 
 many — were discharged, but their places were 
 rapidly filled by other persons accused of the 
 same offence. Those who remained steadfast to 
 the faith were again sent to prison, there to await a 
 new examination, or to suffer punishment. 
 
 Oh going over the list of prisoners admitted the 
 previous day, the syndaco came to a blank, and 
 asked his substitute for an explanation; He was 
 
 told that a young girl had been arrested on the 
 double charge of breaking the sanitary regulations, 
 and of heresy. She had been charged, in the 
 first place, with visiting the Lazzaretto in company 
 with a plague-stricken friend, and thereafter entering 
 the city. The second offence of which she was 
 accused was omitting to make the sign of the cross 
 when the crucifix passed her in the procession, and 
 refusing to kneel to the relic of St. Agatha. 
 
 " As she appeared to be a very inoffensive girl, 
 I wanted an excuse to discharge her," he con- 
 tinued, " and tried hard to persuade her to admit that 
 she intended no disrespect, that, in fact, she was 
 not aware that the crucifix and the relic were passing 
 at the time ; but she refused to make the ad- 
 mission, so I had no alternative. Thinking a little 
 solitary confinement might bring her to a better 
 state of mind, I sent her to one of the cells, where 
 she now is." 
 
 " What is her name ? " said the syndaco. 
 
 " That is the worst feature in the case," said the 
 substitute ; " I could not obtain from her either 
 name or address. I wish you would see her, per- 
 haps she might give them to you. In my opinion 
 there is very little harm about her." 
 
 The syndaco now ordered the warder to bring 
 the prisoner in, and in a few minutes he returned 
 with Teresa. 
 
 There was at first sight little appearance of obsti- 
 nacy about the poor girl; on the contrary, she 
 appeared overwhelmed with sorrow. 
 
 " My substitute informs me," the syndaco said in a 
 kindly tone of voice, " that yesterday when brought 
 before him, charged with two serious offences, you 
 would not give him your name and address. I hope 
 you will not refuse them to'me this morning. I say 
 so for your own welfare, as I wish to befriend you il 
 I possibly can. Now tell me what is your name." 
 
 " Indeed I cannot. I dare not," saitl Teresa, 
 the tears trickling down her face as she spoke. 
 
 " Dare not ? " said the syndaco. " Of what are 
 you afraid ? Be assured the law is strong enough 
 to protect you from any person who may wish 
 to injure you. Now be reasonable and give me 
 your name." 
 
 " Indeed I cannot," said the poor girl. " If I 
 only were concerned I would willingly, but " 
 
 Here she stopped, as if recollecting herself The 
 syndaco, observing her embarrassment, said to 
 her, — 
 
 " Go on, you have much more to fear from silence 
 than from honestly speaking the truth." 
 
 Still Teresa remained silent ; and the syndaco 
 continued, " Once more, speak out, my child, and 
 I will befriend you if I can." 
 
 " Indeed I cannot," said Teresa. " Oh ! don't 
 ask me." 
 
 " By persisting in your refusal," said the syndaco, 
 " are you aware of the means you compel me to 
 resort to ? " 
 
no 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Teresa looked at him with horror, for she antici- 
 pated too correctly what he was about to say. 
 
 " The only means now left to me for obtaining 
 your answer is to subject you to the torture of the 
 cord. Warder," he continued, " tell the executioner 
 to see that it is in readiness." 
 
 The warder was about to leave the room, when 
 Teresa, in the utmost terror, caught his arm to 
 retain him. 
 
 " Oh ! do not put me to the torture ! " she ex- 
 claimed, " You cannot be so cruel !" 
 
 " Then give me your name." 
 
 In a moment there flashed across her mind the 
 thought that were she to comply with the syndaco's 
 request her father would be in danger of discovery, 
 and this gave her courage to reply in a tone of 
 great resolution, — 
 
 " Do with me what you please, I will not reveal 
 my name." 
 
 The syndaco, looking at her with great interest, 
 said to the warder, " (i^onduct her to the torture 
 room, and show her the cord aiid~pulleyj explain- 
 ing its use. Then take her back to her cell. . I 
 hope to-morrow," he continued, addressing Teresa, 
 " I shall find you more reasonable, for I can assure 
 you it would grieve me to hurt you. Now go, and 
 remember what I have said, and think of the 
 punishment which you are likely to bring upon 
 yourself if you continue obstinate." 
 
 The warder having led Teresa from the room, the 
 syndaco said to his substitute, — 
 
 " I should be sorry to employ force in obtaining 
 the name of that-young girl, but there is a mystery 
 about her which ought to be explained. That there 
 can be but little harm in her I admit ; still, if we 
 discover who she is it may lead to matters more 
 important." 
 
 " She certainly must have strong reasons for 
 concealing her name with such determination, and 
 there is little difficulty in detecting from her 
 language, manner, and dress, that her position 
 in life is far above the average of our prisoners. 
 At least such was the case till lately, but now the 
 energetic action taken by the Holy Office has sent 
 us prisoners of a far higher grade in society than 
 we have been accustomed to hitherto." 
 
 " I shall not be sorry," said the syndaco, " when 
 the Holy Office finds it advisable to relax their 
 efforts. Catholic as I am, and I hope a true son 
 of the Church, it goes sadly against me to find 
 among our prisoners those with whom I have been 
 on terms of personal friendship, and who have 
 hitherto enjoyed the respect and esteem of their 
 fellow-citizens. But to return to this young girl, 
 what are we to do with her ? Her name we must 
 include in the list to be sent to the Holy Office." 
 
 " Possibly the sight of the cord and pulley and 
 the explanation of their use by the warder may 
 induce her to change her mind," said the substitute. 
 
 " That it very often does compel a change of 
 purpose I admit," said the syndaco, " but it will 
 not do so in her case. Keenly as she is alive to 
 the pain the cord would inflict, and fearfully as she 
 
 would suffer from it, be assured that torture will 
 not extort her secret from her. And Heaven forbid 
 that I should be the cause of making her confess 
 by such means!" he continued. "Still we must 
 take steps to prove, if necessary, to the Holy 
 Office that we have not been indifferent to their 
 orders. What would you advise me to do ? " 
 
 " Send some one to the Lazzaretto to inquire the 
 name of her friend, and thus we may indirectly 
 discover her own." 
 
 " Do so," said the syndaco. " If the plague be 
 really abating, there will be no occasion to- puais^ 
 her for a breach of the sanitary laws. And,if %e 
 can obtain her name, and an admission froin her 
 that she intended no disrespect to the relic of St. 
 Agatha, I will immediately release her." 
 
 The substitute now sent a messenger to the 
 I-azzaretto, who returned several hours afterwards 
 without the information. The- surgeon who had ad- 
 mitted Madonna Ponte was not in the Lazzaretto, 
 and thf head physician could not remember the 
 name of the patient who had been accompanied 
 by the young girl. It is more than probable that 
 this was merely an evasion on his part, as he 
 could easily have obtained it by referring to his 
 list. Possibly Dr. Boschi's objection to giving the 
 name might have arisen from the authoritative tone 
 of the messenger who demanded the information, 
 as if the head physician were legally bound to give 
 it, while he, on the contrary, resolutely maintained 
 that in all matters connected with the Lazzaretto, 
 or the Boschetti Islands, his jurisdiction was sub- 
 ject to no other authority. 
 
 For nearly a week Teresa remained in solitary 
 imprisonment, more than once during that time ap- 
 pearing before the syndaco, who on each occasion, 
 by threats, or by entreaties, endeavoured to obtain 
 her name and place of abode, but without success. 
 At last, tired of being refused, he resolved to 
 trouble himself no more about her, but to trust 
 to chance for information. Thinking, however, 
 that if such flagrant disobedience to his authority 
 were allowed, it would be subversive of all prison 
 discipline, and finding that there were no symp- 
 toms of her being attacked by the plague, he 
 ordered her to "be placed with the other female pri- 
 soners, where she was to remain till she obeyed his 
 orders. Probably he might also have thought that 
 there her silence would give way sooner. He could 
 easily perceive that she was a girl belonging to an 
 elevated position in society, and therefore likely 
 to be soon disgusted with her fellow-prisoners, 
 many of whom were of the lowest and most disre- 
 putable order. 
 
 If such were his thoughts, he was doomed to 
 disappointment, for although many of the prisoners 
 belonged to the most degraded portion of the 
 female population in Ferrara, there were several 
 who had been arrested for holding Protestant 
 opinions, and who were awaiting 'their examina- 
 tions before the Inquisitors. These, easily recog- 
 nising one another, formed a separate communi^, 
 though even here the terrible espionage which had 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Ill 
 
 been established in Ferrara was apparent, for while 
 each unhappy prisoner earnestly wished for advice 
 and consolation from the others, all were afraid 
 to make a confidant, lest they might choose one 
 who would, on the next opportunity, betray 
 them. Still a sort of intimacy, if not friendship, 
 existed among them. They conversed together, 
 and though cautious of saying a word that might 
 betray their feelings, they did not hesitate to 
 speak on matters which were reported to have 
 occuiTed outside the prison walls. Among these 
 subjects was naturally that of the imprisonment of 
 the Duchess Ren^e. 
 
 Fortunately among the female prisoners who had 
 been arrested on charges of heresy, two only ap- 
 peared to know Teresa. Even of one of these, a re- 
 spectable aged woman, the wife of a lawyer, who was 
 well-known to the Judge Biagio Rosetti, Teresa was 
 hardly certain, for beyond occasionally giving an 
 expressive and significant glance, which probably 
 might have been misunderstood, she made no other 
 sign. The other was a young married lady, whose 
 husband was also imprisoned on a charge of heresy, 
 but was confined in the dungeons of the prison of 
 the Corpus Domini. Between this lady and Teresa, 
 although they said not a word on religious sub- 
 jects, a strong current of sympathy existed. They 
 were firequently seated side by side for hours 
 together, little conversation, however, passing be- 
 tween them. After a few days' acquaintance she 
 quitted the prison to appear before the Inquisitors, 
 and Teresa never saw her again. The night she 
 left, on bidding adieu to Teresa, she flung her 
 arms round the young girl's neck, and kissing her 
 tenderly, whispered, "May you be speedily released ! 
 I know you, but fear nothing; I will keep your secret. 
 God bless you!" And then, after again kissing 
 her, she turned, and left with the guard who were 
 waiting to accompany her and some other pri- 
 soners to the convent. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. — THE HOLY OFFICE OF THE 
 INQUISITION. 
 
 For two days subsequent to the departure of the 
 young married lady, who had been arrested with 
 her husband on a charge of heresy, from the prison, 
 Teresa remained without a companion, her mind 
 almost entirely occupied in thinking about her 
 father. That he was in danger there could be but 
 little doubt, and very probably he might be already 
 in the hands of the Inquisitors. And Camille 
 Giirdon, where was he ? Could he also have been 
 arrested, or had he accompanied Ochino in his 
 flight ? The latter idea, natural as it was, had no 
 sooner been formed than Teresa rejected it almost 
 with indignation. Her mind again reverted to her 
 father, and from him to Madonna Ponte, the uncer- 
 tainty of whose fate was probably more painful to 
 the young girl than would be the certainty of her 
 death. In this state she continued, her mind 
 frequently reverting from one subject to another, 
 till one night when the head warder entered. He 
 beckoned to Teresa to lollow him, and then con- 
 
 ducted her to a small room, where were the syndaco 
 and his substitute. 
 
 "Leave us, warder," said the syndaco, "but 
 remain within call." 
 
 As soon as the warder had closed the door, the 
 syndaco said to Teresa, — 
 
 " My child, I have just received an order from 
 the Holy Office to bring you before the Reverend 
 Fathers, who wish to question you. I also must 
 be present and answer any questions put to me, 
 and I should be sorry were I compelled to bear 
 witness against you for defying the law." 
 
 " In what have I been guilty of doing so?" said 
 Teresa, in horror of being sent for by the Inqui- 
 sitors. " If I have offended you I have done so 
 unintentionally. Oh ! forgive me ! I would endure 
 anything here, rather than go before the Inquisitors." 
 
 " I have no alternative but to obey their orders," 
 said the syndaco. " The evidence I shall be com- 
 pelled to give agamst you is that, contrary to the 
 law, you refused to give me your name when I asked 
 it. Be wise, and do so now. I ask it solely for 
 your welfare. It is all I can say against you, and if 
 you now comply with my request, all I say shall be 
 in your favour." 
 
 Teresa was silent for a moment. Terrible, how- 
 ever, as was the alarm which she felt at offending 
 the Inquisitors, her anxiety for her father's safety 
 was greater, and she replied, that she could not 
 give her name. 
 
 " Then I have no alternative," said the syndaco 
 sadly. " If you will not give me yoiir name," he 
 continued after a moment's silence, " let me advise 
 you not to withhold it from the Reverend Fathers. 
 Nay more, answer honestly every question they 
 may put to you." 
 
 "There are some things I will not tell them," 
 said Teresa, now animated with the courage of 
 despair. 
 
 " My child, my child, do not say so. You little 
 know those with whom you will soon have to deal." 
 
 " They" cannot make me speak if I will not," 
 said Teresa firmly. 
 
 " Cannot ! " said the syndaco. " My poor child, 
 before you quit them this evening your inmost 
 thoughts — even those you would conceal with your 
 life's blood — they will tear from you. I never yet 
 met one who could resist the torture as they apply 
 it. If you do not answer them, they will fasten 
 your hands together with a cord, and by it will raise 
 you with a sudden jerk from the ground till pos- 
 sibly your joints will be torn from their sockets, and 
 then you will be questioned and your answers will be 
 written down. That concluded, you will be again 
 submitted — " Here Teresa turned ghastly pale, and 
 was evidently on the point of fainting. The syndaco 
 hurriedly called to the warder to bring him a cup 
 of water, with which he bathed Teresa's temples, 
 and she soon recovered. 
 
 "And now, my poor child," he said, "we must 
 delay no longer. Summon up courage, and on our 
 way to the convent ponder well what I have said 
 and take my advice." 
 
112 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Teresa, bewildered and not yet quite reco- 
 vered from the shock she had felt at hearing the 
 description of the torture to which shewouki be 
 subjected if she refused to give her name and thus 
 betray her father, now left the prison, and, escorted by 
 the syndaco, the head warder, and a soldier of the 
 municipal guard, disguised as a civilian, proceeded 
 towards the Dominican convent. As they went 
 •through the streets they maintained the strictest 
 silence that they might not attract attention. The 
 cool evening air had the effect of clearing the 
 brain of Teresa, arid she looked with curiosity on 
 those they met in the streets, as if expecting to see 
 some one she knew. Nothing, however, occurred 
 worthy of notice, and at length they reached the 
 building at the back of the convent, in which^he 
 business of the Holy Office was conducted. 
 
 On entering, the syndaco told the lay brother on 
 duty in the hall that he had brought the prisoner 
 ordered by the Reverend Father Oriz. 
 
 "You have been delayed, have you not?" said 
 the lay brother ; " the Reverend Fathers have 
 been for some time expecting you, and are already 
 assembled in the council chamber. I will inform 
 them of your arrival." So saying, he left the hall, 
 and in a few moments afterwards he returned to 
 conduct the syndaco and his prisoner into the 
 presence of the Inquisitors. 
 
 The sight which met their eyes on entering the 
 Council Chamber might have struck, terror to the 
 mind of a person of stronger nerves than the poor 
 girl who was now brought before the Inquisitors. 
 The room, which was lofty, was lighted by a huge 
 brazen lamp suspended from the ceiling, in such a 
 position as to cast a strong light on the countenance 
 of the prisoner. A long table separated Teresa from 
 her judges, who were seated opposite to her, dressed 
 in the frocks of Dominican monks. In their centre, 
 and exactly opposite to the place where Teresa 
 stood, sat Oriz in a chair somewhat more preten- 
 tious than the others. He was ghastly pale, and 
 looked as if he had been suffering from ill-health 
 and had not yet quite recovered. Except for the 
 extraordinary lustre in his keen black eye, Teresa 
 might have taken him for a waxen figure, so 
 ir.otionless was he. On his right sat Father Fabrizio, 
 wlio was Chief Inquisitor before the arrival of Oriz, 
 and on his left, a monk of the same order who 
 acted as secretary, having a large open manuscript 
 book before him, and a pen and ink-horn at his 
 side. Behind the monks seated at the table were 
 several others in the dress of the same order, who 
 were not so well seen. One other person remains 
 t3 be noticed. He was a tall, powerfully built, 
 beetle-browed man, stern and brutal in feature, and 
 coarsely clad. As Teresa entered her eye for a 
 moment fell on him, and even when standing ter- 
 ritied before the Inquisitors, the dread she telt at 
 this repulsive-looking individual continued to occupy 
 a large share oi her thoughts. 
 
 The examination now commenced by the secre- 
 tary asking Teresa her name. She remained silent, 
 unwilling to give it, yet afraid to refuse. After a 
 
 moment's pause Oriz said — "Hername is Teresa Ro- 
 setti ; she is the daughter of the Judge Biagio Rosetti, 
 and one of the ladies in waiting on her Highness." 
 
 Teresa looked at him with wonder. While 
 he spoke he continued to gaze on her, and the 
 words seemed to proceed without effort of any 
 kind from his lips. Teresa now for the first time 
 rememberedj from the tone of his voice, that she 
 had seen him once before- — on the day when he had 
 the interview with the Duchess, but illness had so 
 altered his appearance that she did not recognise 
 him till she heard his voice. 
 
 After the secretary had entered her name, he 
 asked her where her father resided. 
 
 " Oh do not ask me," said Teresa, sorrowfully. 
 " I dare not answer you." 
 
 " Do not be obstinate, maiden," said the secre- 
 tary. ''A reply we must have, and we should be 
 sorry to resort to painful means to obtain it." 
 
 " How can I betray my own father?" said 
 Teresa. 
 
 " There are circumstances," said Oriz, with a 
 solemn tone of voice, " in which denouncing a 
 parent may be conducive to the welfare of that 
 parent's soul. It may be so in this instance with 
 your father, though both you and he are at the 
 present time guilty of holding the damnable heresy 
 promulgated by the arch-heretics, John Calvin and 
 Bernardino Ochino. Do not misunderstand me. 
 You must inform us where your father and Ochino 
 are now to be found." 
 
 " I know nothing of Ochino," said Teresa. 
 
 " Maiden, do not say so, for we know to the 
 contrary," said Oriz. " We know that when he 
 arrived in Ferrara your father first sheltered him, 
 and then conducted him to the Duchess at the 
 Palace of San Francesco, and while there, you, on 
 more than one occasion, were the means of com- 
 munication between them. Can you deny it?'" 
 
 Teresa was silent. 
 
 " Once more I ask you, can you deny it ? " 
 
 Teresa still' made no reply. 
 
 " Why are you so obstinate, girl ? " said Oriz. 
 " Know that the proof is in our own hands. Brother 
 Felix," he continued, though • without turning his 
 head, to one of the monks behind him, " was not 
 this prisoner on more than one occasion the means 
 of communication between the heretic Bernardino 
 Ochino and the Judge Biagio Rosetti ? " 
 
 "She was," said the monk, in a low tone of 
 voice. 
 
 Low as was the tone in which the reply was 
 uttered, it fell on the ear of Teresa like a heavy 
 peal of thunder. She staggered, and would have 
 fallen had she not leant on the table for support. 
 
 " Come forward. Brother Felix," said Oriz, " and 
 let the prisoner see how futile on her part is 
 further attempt at concealment." 
 
 A movement was now made among the monks 
 to allow Brother Felix to reach the table. When 
 Teresa cast her eyes on him, she uttered a loud 
 scream, and fell senseless on the floor. The wit- 
 ness, who was clad in the garb of a novice of the 
 

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 n 
 P 
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 B 
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 w 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 '15 
 
 Dominican order, was no other than Camille 
 Gurdon. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. — FRA FELIX. 
 
 Great excitement was visible on the habitually- 
 calm, well-disciplined countenances of the Domi- 
 nican monks in the Council Chamber when they 
 saw Teresa fall senseless on the floor. Some 
 ijuitted their seats and walked round to the side of 
 the table to assist the syndaco in raising her. 
 Even the executioner, the ill-looking man whom 
 Teresa had observed when she entered, came for- 
 ward to, assist her. Brother Felix, as we may 
 now call him, stood motionless where Teresa had 
 recognised him, whether overwhelmed with shame 
 at the effect produced on her by his infamy, or 
 afraid to awaken suspicion in the mind of his supe- 
 rior that he was in any way interested in the girl, 
 it would be difficult to say. Perhaps he might 
 have had for the first time some idea of the feeling 
 Teresa entertained for him, and was thus taken by 
 surprise. That he had endeavoured to make him- 
 self agreeable to her was true, although actuated 
 at first solely by the vanity of wishing to make an 
 impression on the heart of so pretty a girl. 
 
 It is true that such behaviour was somewhat at 
 variance with the rules of the Dominican order in 
 which he had previously enrolled himself as a 
 novice, and afterwards, in the ardour of enthusiasm, 
 had offered to play the spy in the cause of the Holy 
 Inquisition. Possibly he might have considered 
 that in assuming a lay character, it was not un- 
 pardonable to follow a more secular line of con- 
 duct than was strictly in accordance with the vows 
 he was about to take. He had originally been edu- 
 cated as a Protestant, but had afterwards become a 
 pervert to the Roman Cathohc faith, and, like most 
 perverts, was more enthusiastic in the advance- 
 ment of his new creed, than those who had been 
 bom and trained in it. From his insinuating 
 and courteous manner, he had been told off to 
 watch and report on all that took place in the 
 house of the Judge Rosetti, and through , Teresa, 
 in the Palace of San Fraincesco itself. And well 
 did he perform the duties assigned to him. At the 
 same time, that which had at first been a mere 
 passing flirtation, developed at last into an ardent 
 passion, so much so indeed, that he was upon 
 the point of declaring himself openly to Teresa and 
 endeavouring to persuade her to elope with him as 
 his wife, when Oriz arrived. 
 
 After examining the working of the Inquisition 
 in Ferrara, Oriz made many alterations, one result 
 of which was that Brother Felix had to assume his 
 novice's dress, and confine himself to the walls 
 of the convent, where he was to remain preparatory 
 to being sent with a, monk in charge of a special 
 message to the General of the Order in Rome. 
 Brother Felix with great readiness submitted to 
 the order. And it might have been dangerous for 
 many reasons not to have done so, ior he had, 
 when acting the part of a layman, made many 
 acquaintances in the city, and were he now to be 
 
 recognised as a novice of a religious order, it 
 might not only cause great scandal to his convent, 
 but be productive of considerable danger to himself. 
 
 With great difficulty the fathers succeeded in 
 restoring animation to Teresa, and when a reaction 
 took place, it was succeeded by so violent a fit of 
 hysterics that the Inquisitors saw it would be utterlv 
 useless to carry the examination further that even- 
 ing. Oriz even, who had remained motionless in 
 his seat, betraying no sign of sympathy or anxiety 
 in his countenance, saw it would serve ' no purpose. 
 
 " We will not continue our examination turtherat 
 present," he said. " Take her back to your prison," 
 he continued, turning to the syndaco, " and there 
 let her be attended with every care, that she may 
 be sufficiently recovered for us to question her 
 further to-morrow." 
 
 " At what hour would you wish her to be brought 
 here. Reverend Father?" inquired the syndaco. 
 
 " Her examination to-morrow," said Oriz, " can 
 take place in the Question Chamber of the Palace 
 of Justice. See that all is prepared for it, and the 
 executioner in attendance, should it unfortunately 
 be requisite to apply the torture. I will con- 
 duct the examination myself, that is to say, if my 
 health will permit. If not, I will send a substi- 
 tute. Let everything be in readiness by noon. 
 Lend me your arm. Brother Felix," he continued — 
 possibly noticing that the novice was about to join 
 the group who had encircled Teresa, " lend me 
 your arm, for I still feel very weak." So saying he 
 rose from his seat, and leaning on the arm of 
 Brother Felix, slowly quitted the Council Chamber. 
 
 More humanity was shown to Teresa after 
 the chief Inquisitor had quitted the Council 
 Chamber than during his presence. Even the 
 monk who had acted as secretary seemed to 
 be interested in the fate of the beautiful girl, 
 and ordered a lay brother to see that Oriz's o\Vn 
 litter was prepared to carry her to the Palace of 
 Justice. Presently the lay brother returned witli 
 the information that the litter was in readiness, and 
 the syndaco, taking Teresa in his arms, carried her 
 down-stairs and placed her in it. He with his 
 assistants then proceeded towards the Palace of 
 Justice, and from time to time he whispered 
 in the poor girl's ear some words of consolation, 
 which, however, she did not hear. On arriving 
 at the Palace of Justice she was carried into one of 
 the audience rooms, where she remained in a half 
 fainting condition, till a cell, or rather strong cham'oer 
 which was occasionally used for detaining prisoners 
 of importance before their examination, was pre- 
 pared for her. In the meantime the wife of one of 
 the warders, who was usually em^jloyed as nurse, 
 during the illness of any of the superior prisoners, 
 was sent for and? ordered to wait all night with 
 Teresa. The syndaco also told her that every 
 attention was to be given to her patient, and: should 
 she think the attendance of the physician of the 
 prison to be necessary, he was to be sent lor, in 
 order that the girl might be strong enough to be 
 examined the next day 
 
n6 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 All being in readiness, Teresa was removed to the 
 cell which had been prepared for her, and placed 
 in charge of the nurse. For some time she re- 
 mained quiet, or rather in a bewildered condition, 
 replying at hazard to any questions or remarks 
 made to her by the nurse. As time passed on she 
 began to realise her position, and to recall the 
 events of the evening. She was relieved by a flood 
 of tears in which she indulged without restraint, 
 as the nurse was now fast asleep. When day broke 
 Teresa was calmer, and sat on her bed in a quiet 
 resigned frame of mind, apparently willing to sub- 
 mit to anything that might be ordered apart from 
 betraying the secret of her father's abode. 
 
 About two hours before midday the syndaco en- 
 tered the cell and told her to prepare herself for the 
 examination which would take place at noon. 
 
 " And once more let me beg of you, my child," 
 he said, " to answer candidly any questions which 
 may be put to you. You must be well aware that 
 even if you have the courage to support the torture 
 " — which I much doubt — it will merely delay for a 
 day or two the discovery of your father's abode, 
 for every dwelling in Ferrara, from the palaces of the 
 Duke to the poorest hovel in the suburbs,' will be 
 searched for him ! And if he be found, then how 
 much more severe will be your punishment ! You 
 will be accused of having been obdurate, not only 
 to the demands of the police of Ferrara, but to the 
 Holy Inquisitors, and your silence will be adduced 
 as a reason for increasing the severity of your 
 punishment as a heretic ; while your candid answer 
 might probably have the eifect of mitigating it. 
 Now take my advice, and answer the questions 
 which are put to you." 
 
 Teresa made no verbal reply to the good-natured 
 syndaco, but merely shook her head, while the tears 
 gathered in her eye. 
 
 " Well, my child, I can do no more," he said. " I 
 hope before the examination commences you will 
 be in a more reasonable frame of mind." 
 
 During the time which passed before the hour 
 fixed for examination, Teresa remained to all ap- 
 pearance calm and resigned, if not indifferent to 
 her fate ; while her mind was much agitated by 
 conflicting thoughts. Although she firmly resolved 
 that no torture should induce her to betray her 
 lather, he was not now the person uppermost in 
 her thoughts ; for her mind almost entirely dwelt 
 upon the young Swiss whom she had known as 
 Camille Gurdon. Till the discovery of his trea- 
 chery, she was not aware herself of the place occu- 
 pied by him in her heart. That she greatly admired 
 him, and had the fullest reliance in his honour and 
 integrity, was true; but she was not previously 
 aware that she had any warmer feeling towards 
 him. She now found that she Had in her heart a 
 great love for him, and that this love had been de- 
 veloped by a sudden shock of the most cruel and 
 unexpected description. She had placed in his 
 keeping with the most perfect reliance, not only 
 her own and her father's welfare, but even their 
 lives, — and now she perceived that this man was 
 
 nothing but a despicable spy. So detestable did 
 his behaviour now appear, that great as her love 
 for him unknowingly had been, she, in a spirit of 
 true womanhood, felt herself degraded in having 
 bestowed her affection on a being so contempt- 
 ible. 
 
 In this frame of mind, occasionally mingled with 
 anxiety for her father's safety, and taoughts of the 
 Duchess Rende imprisoned in her dungeon in the 
 castle, the time passed till the hour for the exami- 
 nation approached, when the door of her cell opened, 
 and the head warder made his appearance. He told 
 her that a Reverend Father had arrived from the 
 convent to make preparations for the examination, 
 which would now take place in less than half an 
 hour, and that he had requested that she should be 
 brought before him that he might advise her on the 
 folly of attempting to withhold any information 
 from the chief Inquisitor, and to explain how 
 much more severe her punishment would be should 
 she not take his advice. 
 
 Teresa mechanically rose from her seat and fol- 
 lowed the warder down a long corridor, terminating 
 in a flight of steps leading to a door opening into 
 the Question Chamber. It was a small octagonal 
 room, its only furniture consisting of one or two 
 seats and a table, while before them hung from 
 the centre of the room the cord and pulley used 
 in extorting evidence from unwilling witnesses and 
 offenders. As the cord, at the moment Teresa 
 entered, was somewhat above the line of vision, she 
 saw it not, but her eye rested on a Dominican brother 
 who, with his back towards her, was getting ready 
 some papers and an ink-horn for the examination. 
 On hearing their footsteps as they entered, he turned 
 his head shghtly, but not so as Teresa could see 
 his features, and said in a whisper to the warder 
 as he approached, " Leave us for a few minutes, 
 but be within call if I want you." 
 
 A slight expression of surprise passed over the 
 warder's countenance, but he made no reply and 
 quitted the room, leaving the monk and the prisoner 
 together. 
 
 As soon as the warder had quitted the room and 
 closed the door after him, the monk quickly turned 
 round, and throwing back the hood he had worn, 
 displayed to the astonished girl the features of her 
 late lover, the now Brother Felix. She was about 
 to utter a cry of alarm, when he advanced towards 
 her and said hurriedly, — 
 
 " Teresa, recover yourself Do not be alarmed, 
 or you may bring ruin on both of us. Listen to me 
 with attention, for in a few minutes Oriz and the 
 Inquisitors will be here. I have stolen from the 
 convent contrary to orders solely to save you if I 
 can. Follow my advice, and when they ask you for 
 the abode of your father, give them a false one 
 without hesitation. Let it be outside the city or at 
 some distance, say at Lagoscuro or Commachio if 
 you please, so as to give time ; and while the 
 Inquisitors seek for him, I will provide for your 
 escape from prison, and we will fly together." 
 
 Teresa made him no verbal reply, but drawing 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 117 
 
 herself up, cast on him a glance of combined indig- 
 nation and contempt. 
 
 "Ah! Teresa," he continued, "you have good 
 reason to hold me in aversion, I admit, but bitterly 
 do I regret the wrong I have done you. Now let 
 me make amends by saving you if I can ; and," 
 he continued, advancing and attempting to take 
 her hand, which she instantly drew from him, " suc- 
 ceed in it I will, for I have both the courage and 
 strength for the attempt, and the ingenuity to carry 
 it out. Now do not hesitate, for every moment lost 
 renders the difficulty of your escape the greater." 
 
 Teresa still made him no reply, but with great 
 dignity in her attitude, continued to cast on him 
 the same look of scorn and reproach. 
 
 " Nay, Teresa, if I am so loathsome in your eyes 
 that you will not listen to me, let your own interest 
 and that of your father guide you in this matter. 
 Remember it is not solely your welfare that is at 
 stake. Continue to hold me in contempt and de- 
 testation if you please, but give me the opportunity 
 of redressing some of the evil I have committed 
 by saving you and your father. This I can do 
 without fail, that is to say, if he is not at this 
 moment within the walls of Ferrara, though even 
 then I might still succeed ; but the difficulty would 
 be greater. Will you grant me but this favour, even 
 though afterwards you may continue to hold nie in 
 the contempt you now do?" 
 
 Teresa for the moment somewhat altered her 
 manner, and for the first time spoke to him. 
 
 " How am I to know," she said with great em- 
 phasis in her tone, " that you are not at this moment 
 deceiving me, and that in making this offer, you 
 are only trying to draw from me the abode of my 
 poor father in order that you may betray him?" 
 
 " Teresa," said Brother Felix, looking at her with 
 a certain amount of respectful reproach, " can you 
 consider me capable of such despicable treachery ?" 
 
 Teresa made him no answer, but regarded him 
 with the same calm dignified stern look. 
 
 " I cannot blame you," said the wretched man ; 
 " but what can I do ? For heaven's sake listen to 
 reason 1 I tell you that were I even at this moment 
 the traitor you believe me to be, you could not 
 injure your father by escaping and giving me the 
 chance of assisting him. His arrest is merely a 
 question of time. It would be impossible for him 
 to leave the Ferrarese territory, while you are 
 in your present danger. What then have I to 
 gain? Yes," he continued, placing his hands 
 together in an imploring manner. " I have some- 
 1^mig to gain, and that is your — I will not say love, 
 but forgiveness for the injuries I have already done 
 you, as truly as I have endangered the life of your 
 father before I knew .you, and loved you not Ay, 
 Teresa, contemptible as you may think me, I do 
 love you even better than life itself, as I am willing 
 to prove to you, and that without hope of return, 
 and I am now anxious to do all I can to make 
 some compensation for the misery I have caused." 
 
 Teresa made him no answer. She could have 
 said there was another sin he had committed, and 
 
 one of no Uttle magnitude in the eyeR of the noble- 
 minded girl. He had succeeded in engaging her 
 affections, and that to an extent she had not dreamed 
 of herself, and, as she now had found, was utterly 
 unworthy of them. She looked at him attentively 
 for a moment, and appeared on the point of speak- 
 ing ; but by an effort she restrained herself, and 
 turning her head from him remained silent. Brother 
 Felix noticed her hesitation, and probably imagin- 
 ing that his words were not lost on her, he con- 
 tinued, — 
 
 " Why do you not answer me ? Believe me, you 
 have not a moment to lose. A few minutes more 
 and it will be too late. Consider what I propose, 
 and then say if it be possible for me to be actuated 
 by an unworthy motive. I not only offer to relieve 
 you from the torture, but to restore to you and your 
 father liberty and life, and that almost to a certainty 
 by the loss of my own. Ay," he continued, no- 
 ticing an expression of doubt on the girl's counte- 
 nance, " by the loss of my own ! Once outside 
 the Ferrarese territory, you and ' your father will 
 be safe, while I, in any country where there 
 may be a Dominican friar, or even a Romish 
 priest, will be denounced and sent as a prisoner to 
 Rome. As you must see, I have nothing to gain. 
 Let me once more implore you to follow my advice, 
 and give some false and distant address as your 
 father's present residence ; and before they can 
 discover the truth, I shall have found means to 
 accomplish both your own and his escape." 
 
 Teresa now turned her head towards him, and 
 after regarding him. attentively for a moment, said, — 
 
 " Listen to me, and take my answer as the only 
 one I shall give you. Dear as my life is to me, and 
 terrible as the torture may be that I shall suffer, I 
 will endure it rather than either my father or my- 
 self should receive liberty at your hands. I know," 
 she continued, seeing Brother Felix was about to 
 speak, " what you would say. You would attempt 
 to prove to me that I overrate both my courage 
 and powers of endurance, but my reliance is on 
 God, who is able to perform "^here her voice 
 quivered, and her eyes filled with tears — " to per- 
 form greater wonders than to endow a young girl 
 with power to support the torture that may be 
 applied to her, and even the certainty of death 
 afterwards, when the motive instigating her is to 
 save the life of an honoured and much-loved parent. 
 I would a thousand times," she continued, the 
 gathered tear in her eye now falling down her 
 cheek, " rather support whatever the malice of our 
 enemies might think fit to inflict on me than obtain 
 relief from the hands of " 
 
 Here her voice completely failed her, and placing 
 one hand before her eyes she wept bitterly. 
 
 "Teresa," said Brother Felix, "you know not 
 what you will have to endure. You know not the 
 terrible power," he continued, " of that small cord 
 in extracting words from an unwilling witness." 
 
 Finding Teresa made him no answer, he pointed 
 with one hand to the cord, which was slightly drawn 
 up above their heads, while with the other he 
 
iiS 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 endeavoured to withdraw the hand which covered 
 her eyes, so as to call her attention to it. But 
 Teresa had no sooner felt the pressure of his hand 
 than she withdrew herself from his .reach with the 
 quickness of lightning, glancing at him with a look 
 of intense indignation as if insulted by his touch. In- 
 stinctively the moment afterwards her eyes followed 
 the direction of his finger which pointed to the cord, 
 and she shuddered as she beheld it. . 
 
 " A few minutes hence," JBrother Felix continued, 
 " and 3'ou will be suffering the terrible agony that 
 simple instrument of torture is capable of inflicting, 
 and strong as your resolution may be at this moment, 
 it must be super-human indeed if capable of sup- 
 porting it. Think but for one moment of the 
 penalty which would await one incautious vsprd 
 uttered under such torment. Once more, give me 
 an answer without delay. The time is fast ap- 
 proaching for the Inquisitors to arrive, and the next 
 moment they may, be here." 
 
 Judging from a shudder he saw pass over Teresa 
 as she glanced at the cord, he imagined her courage 
 was upon the point of failing. " Once more," he 
 said to her, " give me an answer, and accept my 
 offer of assistance. Promise me you will ; if not 
 for your own sake, cast one thought of pity on me. 
 Imagine what my feelings would be, condemned to 
 stand here and witness your suffering under the 
 terrible torture to which yo,u will be subjected. 
 Hark ! I hear footsteps in the corridor. One 
 moment longer, and it will be too late. Dearest 
 Teresa, you must feel some pity for me. Little did 
 1 know, till I judged from what I witnessed last 
 evening, that you had for me any affection. Speak 
 quickly, I hear the footsteps approaching." 
 
 The effect of his speech was far different from 
 what might have been imagined. Great as her 
 dread was at the entrance of the Inquisitors into 
 the room, it was absorbed in her shame a|:, finding 
 her unworthy lover had discovered the secret of her 
 affection for him. The sound of the steps became 
 more clearly . distinguishable in the stone passage 
 leading to the room, and Brother Felix, in the 
 emergency of despair, advanced towards her to take 
 her hand, imploring her- at the same time to speak. 
 To avoid, not only his touch, but the sound of his 
 words, she sank on one knee, and bending her head, 
 placed her hands over her ears toJshieldherself from 
 his arguments, and as she did so, she . heard him 
 exclaim, " Too late ! too late !" and the door 
 opened. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. DELIVERANCE. 
 
 Terror at the arrival of the Inquisitors was 
 now added to her desire not to hear the per- 
 suasive arguments of Brother Fehx, and she re- 
 mained crouched in the same position, taking no 
 notice of the new comers. In this way she con- 
 tinued for some moments, hearing nothing, when a 
 hand was placed on her shoulder with great tender- 
 ness. Fearing the hand was that of Brother Fehx, 
 she shrank from it, when on the other side of her 
 she felt an arm placed gently round her waist, and 
 
 a hand, evidently a woman's, take her softly by the 
 wrist. Teresa now let her hands fall from her ears, 
 when a man's voice, in kind accents, said— 
 
 " Come, my daughter ; have courage. Do not 
 be alarmed." 
 
 "Teresa, my. child," said a kind female voice, 
 well known to her, "rise up, you. have nothing to 
 fear. We have come to take you with us." 
 
 Teresa now, with the assistance of the arm. which 
 had been placed round her, rose from her. knees, 
 and gazed with astonishment at those near her. 
 On one side, with real kindness and sympathy 
 expressed on his countenance, stood the Jesuit 
 Pelletario, on the other. Madonna Bonifacio, the 
 governess of the Princesses, a lady who had always 
 felt, notwithstanding the difference of their creed, a 
 marked affection for the beautiful and amiable 
 heretic girl. Completely bewildered, Teresa had 
 great difficulty in realising the position she was in. 
 Madonna Bonifacio, seeing her surprise and confu- 
 sion, clasped her in her arms, kissed her affec- 
 tionately, and sa,id — 
 
 " My child, recover yourself, for we have come to 
 take you with us. His Highness having heard 
 where you were, has sent an order for your release, 
 and the Duchess has sent her carretta for you, 
 which is now waiting below." 
 
 Teresa, through the kindness of Madonna Boni- 
 facio, somewhat recovered herself j but the presence 
 of the syndaco, who was also standing there, ap- 
 peared still to keep her in doubt. Noticing the 
 inquiring look she cast on him, the syndaco said 
 to her — 
 
 " It is quite true.'' Then showing her a piece of 
 parchment, he continued, " It is perfectly true. I 
 have this morning had the happiness to receive the 
 order for your release, signed by his Highness 
 himself • Here it is." 
 
 . Before answering a word, Teresa glanced round 
 the room, and saw Brother Felix standing near the 
 window, apparently occupied in looking at some- 
 thing which was taking place below. At that 
 moment the Dominican monk who had acted as 
 Oiiz's secretary the evening before, and a lay 
 brother of the order, entered the room. The secre- 
 tary appeared greatly surprised to see Pelletario, 
 and although the two monks saluted each other 
 with the greatest courtesy and humility, but little 
 love appeared to.be lost between them. 
 
 " Excuse me, my brother," said the Dominican, 
 noticing that Pelletario and Madonna Bonifacio, 
 in company with Teresa, were about to leave the 
 room, "Excuse me, but is there not some little 
 mistake in your removing a prisoner in custody of 
 the Holy Office ?" 
 
 The Jesuit, with great blandness in his manner, 
 but a certain expression of triumph in his counte- 
 nance, possibly indicating that he was master of the 
 position, replied to the Dominican — 
 
 " I think, my Reverend Brother, that our proceed- 
 ings are perfectly regular. The prisoner was first 
 arrested on a charge of having broken the sanitary 
 laws of the city, nor am I aware that any charge of 
 
"SHE SANK ON ONE KNEE, AND PLACED HER HANDS OVER HER EARS' 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 121 
 
 heresy has been formally entered against her. Is 
 not that so, worthy syndaco ?" 
 
 " She was first arrested on the charge of breaking 
 the sanitary regulations," replied the syndaco. 
 
 " And was till a moment since," Pelletario con- 
 tinued, laying particular expression on the last 
 words, " a prisoner of the civil authority ?" 
 
 " Quite true, Reverend Father," said the syndaco. 
 
 " And you have also the order for her immediate 
 release, signed by his Highness the Duke ?" 
 
 " I have. Reverend Father ; it is true." 
 
 "Show it to my Reverend Brother." Then 
 turning to the Dominican he said, " You will see 
 that we are perfectly in order. Should, however, 
 any little irregularity unwittingly have occurred, 
 the Holy Office have but to apply to his High- 
 ness, who, as a true son of the Church, will 
 give any communication he receives from such a 
 quarter his profound attention. Will you excuse 
 me, Reverend Brother, if I leave you? Her 
 Highness is expecting us." 
 
 Notwithstanding his great command of feature, 
 the Dominican secretary could not conceal his 
 surprise at the Jesuit's words. Making an effort to 
 recover himself, he said — 
 
 "Good morning, my Reverend Brother. Of 
 course it will be my duty to inform his Reverence 
 the Chief Inquisitor of what has taken place." 
 
 " By all means, Brother," said Pelletario, with 
 great suavity in his tone. " Pray inform him of all, 
 that no mistake may hereafter arise from any con- 
 cealment." And politely making room for Madonna 
 Bonifacio, who was supporting Teresa, to go before 
 them, he bowed obsequiously to the Dominican, 
 and then changing the expression of his counte- 
 nance with great rapidity, he cast one glance of 
 intelligence, mixed with stern displeasure, on 
 Brother Felix, and left the room. 
 
 They now descended into the courtyard of the 
 Palace of Justice, where the splendid carretta of the 
 Duchess was standing, to carry them the short 
 distance from thence to the Este Palace. The 
 officials in the courtyard, as well as the servants in 
 attendance, could not refrain, notwithstanding their 
 habitual good training, from casting a curious and 
 anxious glance at the poor girl who a few minutes 
 before had been about to undergo the torture, and 
 who was now being escorted as a guest to the Ducal 
 Palace by the two persons of the highest importance 
 in the Duchy — the confessor to the Duke, and the 
 lady superintendent of his daughters. With some 
 little difficulty they placed the trembling girl in the 
 carretta ; Madonna Bonifacio then took her seat by 
 her side, and Pelletario opposite to them ; and the 
 servants having drawn the curtains, the coachman 
 
 drove on at a walking pace, a footman on each 
 side of the carretta, and two of the ducal guard 
 preceding it to the Palace. 
 
 Teresa, on her way, turned towards Madonna 
 Bonifacio, and said — 
 
 " Am I then to be imprisoned with her 
 Highness ?" 
 
 " Imprisoned with her Highness ?" said Madonna 
 Bonifacio. " My dear child, you are now in perfect 
 liberty, and the guest both of her Highness and the 
 Duke. The Princesses have also again returned to 
 Ferrara, and will be delighted to welcome their 
 friend. Come, my child, look gay again. Be 
 assured you will receive a most cordial welcome." 
 
 Pelletario also put in his word of consolation, 
 and explained to her the great satisfaction, not only 
 her Highness the Duchess, but also the Duke 
 and the young Princesses, would have in again 
 seeing her. 
 
 " I assure you," he continued," we have all been 
 deeply grieved at the inconveniences and sorrows 
 which, through a current of untoward events, you 
 have unavoidably been subjected to. But all is 
 over now, and be prepared to meet her Highness 
 with a cheerful countenance." 
 
 By this time the carretta had arrived at the Este 
 Palace, and Teresa, accompanied by Madonna 
 Bonifacio and the Jesuit, mounted the grand 
 staircase leading to the magnificent apartments 
 which had been ornamented in the time of the 
 late Duke, and continued their way onward till 
 they had nearly arrived at a small private cabinet 
 of his wife, the late Duchess Lucrezia Borgia. 
 Just before reaching the door of this cabinet, 
 Pelletario, with great good taste, said to Madonna 
 Bonifacio — 
 
 " Would it not be better that we allowed the first 
 interview between her Highness and her friend to 
 pass without witnesses?" 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said Madonna Boni- 
 facio, and they then proceeded with her to the 
 door, which an usher opened, and the next moment 
 Teresa found herself in the presence of her illus- 
 trious patroness. 
 
 Teresa immediately rushed forward, and was on 
 the point of flinging herself on her knees and taking 
 the hand of her Highness, when the Duchess with- 
 drew it, and placing it before her eyes wept for 
 some moments in silence. 
 
 "Oh, my child !" she said, "how degraded does 
 your presence make me appear in my own eyes !" 
 Then placing her arm round Teresa she kissed her 
 affectionately. Looking at her attentively for a 
 moment, she continued, " You little know to what 
 depths I have fallen, and the sin I have committed." 
 
122 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. — A PAINFUL MISSION. 
 
 ii'l*i#iliiiiHl-^A/'^^' '^"^* "°^ 
 Ijianse to ex- 
 plain how it 
 was that, while 
 Teresa had re- 
 ceived infor- 
 mation of the 
 imprisonment 
 and cruel 
 treatment of 
 the Duchess 
 Rende, ^e 
 appeared to 
 enjoy at the 
 time of their 
 meeting the 
 most perfect 
 liberty. To do 
 this, it \vill be 
 necessary to 
 retrace- our 
 narrative to 
 the time when 
 Teresa and Madonna Ponte quitted the palace of 
 San Francesco to obtain tidings as to whether the 
 pastor Bernardino Ochino had effected his escape. 
 It will be remembered that an interview took 
 place between the inquisitor Oriz and Ren^e, prior 
 to Ochino quitting the palace. Rende, strong in her 
 own faith, set at defiance the threats of the Inqui- 
 sitor, and called upon Teresa and Madonna Ponte 
 to bear witness to her statement, that no perse- 
 cution or entreaties should terrify or persuade her 
 into a renunciation of the Protestant faith. Little, 
 however, did the unfortunate Duchess then appre- 
 ciate how terrible was the power which would -be 
 brought to bear against her. Oriz, when he heard 
 her words, merely bovyed,- indicating that he fairly 
 understood, her meaning and quitted her presence. 
 It remained only a question between them which 
 should be the stronger. But notwithstanding the 
 confidence Rende had in the stability of her own 
 principles— and few indeed could have had stronger 
 ■Protestant faith, than she had — a power still greater ■ 
 was in the hands of Oriz, 
 
 Oriz had ^.cquired a profound knowledge- of 
 human nature, during his long experience in the 
 office of Inquisitor — a knowledge in the present 
 instance turned to such infamous account, that 
 even the most bigoted panegyrist of the Inquisition 
 has never dar.ed, to say one word in its defence. 
 This had taught him that there was a means of 
 crushing the spirit of the Duchess, and that by 
 mental torture. His plans resulted in a success 
 which constrained the unfortunate lady for a short 
 period to abjure the Protestant faith, although at 
 the same time he covered his own name, and that 
 of the Inquisition itself, with well-merited oppro- 
 briujTi. 
 
 For perhaps half an hour after Teresa and 
 Madonna Ponte had quitted the palace of Sari 
 Francesco, Ren^e remained seated in the room. 
 She sat mptionless, laboyring under a peculiar and 
 inexplicable oppression aggravated by the uncer- 
 tainty as to whether it might not increase p inten- 
 sity. She was aware that the Princesses, hot only 
 without bidding her adieil, but without her know- 
 ledge; had quitted the palace, A^hether she had 
 been permanently deprived of tlreir society, was a^ 
 point on which she was still uncertain. . 
 
 The Duchess was arouse^ from her, meditations 
 by the entrance of her gentleman usher, who with 
 terror on his countenance, infoni;ied her that the 
 Archbishop of Ferrara, .attended by a. reverend 
 brother of the Dominican order, and a captain of 
 the Ducal guard, had arrived at the palace, and 
 demanded an audience with her Highness. The 
 Duchess, greatly surprised at the usher's manner, 
 and probably feeUng indignant at the somewhat 
 imperative wording of his message, althougb de- 
 livered with the most profound respect, was on 
 the point of answering that it was not then con- 
 venient for her to receive them. At that moment 
 the Dominican (who was no other than the one 
 who had acted as secretary at Teresa's examina- 
 tion), along with the Archbishop and captain 
 of the guard, entered the apartment. The Arch- 
 bishop and the monk advanced with much respect 
 towards the Duchess, while the captain of the 
 guard, after ordering the usher to withdraw, closed 
 the door, and in a respectful attitude stood by it, 
 as if unwilling that it should be thought he was 
 in any way a party to the conference about to take 
 place. 
 
 , Repee, w|ien she saw her visitors enter, seemed 
 about to protest against their intrusion ; but the air 
 of sorrow visible on their countenances restrained 
 her. The Archbishop was the first to break silence. 
 
 "We have arri-^Tsd," he said, " on a most painful 
 mission to your Highness — one, in fact, which we 
 should never have had the courage to undertake, 
 had we not been impelled by a strong sense of 
 duty, and a respectful affection and interest in the 
 soul of your Highness. But a further duty still 
 urges us. The errors professed by your Highness 
 are not only pernicious to your own soul, but to 
 the souls of others, eiicouraging many to remain in 
 their heresy who would otherwise return to the 
 true Church, besides impeding the action of the 
 law, inasmuch as the equality of justice without 
 distinction of persons, which has hitherto been 
 one of the brightest ornaments in the jurisprudence 
 of our country, cannot fairly be carried out upon 
 those in a lower grade whilst your Highness is 
 allowed to hold your errors with impunity." 
 
 " I will not enter into any dispute with you on 
 theological matters," said Ren^e. " I am a poor 
 ignorant woman, and little able to compete with a 
 man of your profound learning in casuistry. But 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 123 
 
 let me state once for all, that poor as my power 
 of argument may be, and terrible as may be the 
 power which you intend to bring against me — and 
 from the presence of thdt monk I feel assured that 
 little mercy will be shown irie — I intend to remain, 
 and will remain, firm in the Protestant faith. You 
 may now proceed with your mission. You know 
 my answer " 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness," said the Domini- 
 can, " if T assure you that you are in error in 
 speaking as you have done of the intention of our 
 reverend .brother the Ghief Inquisitor, . and the 
 other members of , our body towards you. We are 
 actuated only by good feeling. I sincerely trust 
 that, although you may have refused to listen to 
 the arguments of the Reverend Father Oriz, autho- 
 rised as he was by your royals nephew the King 
 of France, as well as his Highness the Duke, to 
 address -j^ou, you will, on reflection, withdraw your 
 opposition. We may then return home with joy 
 in our hearts, instead of being obliged . to press the 
 painful ultimatum we are the bearers of should you 
 still determine to persist in the errors of which you 
 are accused." 
 
 " May I ask you,'' said Rende calmly, " what 
 are the errors I am accused of?" 
 
 " I am instructed," said the Dominican, drawing 
 a paper from his pocket, " to read them seriaiim to 
 your Highness, and to request your answer on 
 each separately. And pleased indeed should I be 
 if I find you deny the truth of all or either." 
 
 " Proceed, sir," said Ren^e. 
 
 The Dominican then opened his paper and read 
 as follows : — 
 
 " By order of the Reverend Fra Matteo Oriz, 
 Chief Inquisitor in Ferrara, I am directed to accuse 
 you, Renee of France and Duchess of Ferrara, of 
 the following crimes, committed by you against the 
 authority of our Holy Church, and to take your 
 answers thereon. 
 
 "I. That you have heretically, and with con- 
 tempt, spoken of the fasts from meat, as well as 
 neglected to observe the feast-days ordered to be 
 kept holy by our Church. Might I have your 
 answer to that accusation ? " 
 
 " I unhesitatingly admit it to be true," replied 
 Renee. 
 
 The Dominican drawing forth a pen, and dipping 
 it in the inkhom he canied by his side, entered on 
 the paper he was reading Rente's answer to the 
 'charge, and then proceeded : 
 
 " II. That you have declared the doctrines of 
 our Church to be corrupt, and that you do not 
 believe in the authority of the sovereign Pontiff, the 
 Holy Catholic and Apostolic Chief of Rome." 
 
 " I admit it," said Ren^e. 
 
 "III. That when holy and learned men have 
 visited you, and with indisputable argument have 
 proved to you that the Roman Catholic Church is 
 the true Church, you have not only denied it, but 
 have spoken in terms of approbation of the doc- 
 trines of sacrilegious men, such as John Huss, 
 Martin Luther, and John Calvin. 
 
 " IV. That you have brought into Italy many 
 books, and after having caused them to be trans- 
 lated into Italian at a great cost, the said books 
 containing fearful errors and atrocious blasphemy 
 against the Holy Roman Catholic Church. 
 
 " V. That you have permitted persons in your 
 suite to omit reciting the office of the most blessed 
 Virgin Mary, admitting their pretext that as they 
 did not understand Latin, no advantage could be 
 derived from their prayer. 
 
 " VI. That you have further spoken against the 
 sacramental confession, and said that it was better 
 to confess to God without the intervention of the 
 priesthood. 
 
 "VII. In speaking of the adoration of the Holy 
 Virgin and the saints, you have said that adoration 
 should be given to God alone. 
 
 " VIII. That you have declared the sacrifice ol 
 the mass to be idolatrous and abominable. 
 
 " IX. That you have spoken with contempt of 
 the practice of visiting, barefooted, the shrines of 
 the saints who are now in Paradise." 
 
 Several other accusations were brought against 
 Rende, such as her having stated that the Virgin 
 Mary was nothing more than the most honourable 
 among women ; that in the sacrament the wafer 
 did not contain the true body and blood of Christ ; 
 that the Popes, in giving authority to the Inqui- 
 sition to convert, banish, or exterminate heretics, 
 acted in the spirit of demons, and were the . uc- 
 cessors of Cain and Judas. 
 
 Rende having unhesitatingly admitted the whole 
 of these accusations, the Dominican then said, 
 with an expression of sorrow in his tone — 
 
 " Then, in the name of our Reverend Father 
 Oriz, Chief Inquisitor in the Faith in the Duchy 
 of Ferrara, I arrest you, Ren^e of France, on the 
 charge of heresy ; but, in respect to your rank, I 
 deliver you into the custody of the captain of the 
 Ducal guard, who will hold you as a prisoner till 
 your punishment has been decided on." 
 
 The officer of the guard now advanced, and 
 with much respect informed Ren^e that she must 
 consider herself his prisoner. 
 
 •' I am ready to obey you, sir," said Rende. 
 " What is it you wish me to do ? " 
 
 " I must ask your Highness to accompany me to 
 the castle, where it will be my painful duty to place 
 you in seclusion. A carriage is waiting for you 
 below, so that no time need be lost." 
 
 Rende without hesitation professed her readiness 
 to follow him, and they descended to the entrance 
 door. Here a numerous body of servants, both 
 Protestant and Catholic, many of them with tears 
 in their eyes, were assembled, and saw her leave 
 the building. She then, with the Archbishop and the 
 Dominican, entered the carretta, which immediately 
 drove off in the direction of the castle, escorted by 
 a body of cavalry. 
 
 Immediately after the Duchess had quitted the 
 palace the whole building was surrounded by 
 soldiers. Several officers of the Inquisition entered 
 it, and commenced the search for Ochino (who, 
 
124 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 as the reader is . aware, had already escaped) ; 
 while others, at the same moment, were employed 
 in searching the house of Biagio Rosetti. .Although 
 neither the Judge nor Ochino were found, the 
 buildings themselves remained in possession of the 
 Holy Office, to await the future orders of the head 
 Inquisitor. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. — RENTE'S FALL. 
 
 The apartments appointed as the prison of Renee 
 in the Castle of Ferrara, consisted of two small 
 plainly-furnished rooms, looking out on the court- 
 yard, and opposite to the spot where the statue of 
 Leonello formerly stood. Blinds had been prepared 
 in such a manner that she could not see or be seen 
 from her windows, either from the court below or 
 from the upper apartments of the castle. On en- 
 tering them she was introduced by the captain of 
 the guard to a respectable but stern-looking woman 
 who was to act as her only servant The captain 
 of the guard (for the Archbishop and the Domini- 
 can had quitted her after escorting her to the 
 prison) ' then explained to the woman, in Renee's 
 presence, the duties she was to perform, adding 
 that any omission on her part would be punished 
 with the utmost severity. She was to obey her 
 Highness impUcitly in all matters respecting her 
 personal service, but she was not to be the means 
 of bringing, or allowing any person to bring, any 
 message or letter to the Duchess; and should 
 she observe any disposition on the part of her 
 Highness to disobey the rules given her, she was 
 immediately to give notice to the officer on guard. 
 When her Highness wished to be alone in the inner 
 chamber she was on no account to follow her, or to 
 enter it, but to confine herself solely to the outer 
 room. Should she have any communication to 
 make, she could do so by speaking to the sentinel 
 on guard through the small wicket which had been 
 placed on the door, and through which their food 
 would be passed, as the door of the prison would 
 only be opened in presence of the captain of the 
 guard, who had the key. Then, turning to Ren^e, 
 with great respect, he begged that through her ser- 
 vant she would let him know if there was anything 
 he could do to render her position more comfort- 
 able. She might feel assured, were it not incom- 
 patible with his duty, that he would immediately 
 obey any command. Then, without waiting for 
 Rente's answer, he bowed respectfully, and quitted 
 the room. 
 
 The moment afterwards the turning of the strong 
 lock outside the door told the unfortunate Duchess 
 but too clearly that she was now a prisoner. 
 
 Diligently did the emissaries of the Inquisition 
 search the Palace of San Francesco immediately 
 after Rende had quitted it. Their purpose was to 
 arrest Bernardino Ochino ; and great indeed was 
 their surprise and disappointment when they found 
 he had escaped. Not only had they received posi- 
 tive information that he was concealed ia the 
 Palace, but the very chamber in which he slept 
 had been indicated with such exactitude, that they 
 
 found several proofs of its having lately been occu- 
 pied — pens, inkhorn, and scraps of manuscript 
 being found there which had evidently been written 
 by a minister of religion. These the lay brother in 
 charge took back with him to Oriz. On his arrival 
 at the convent he met the lay brother under whom 
 the search had been made in the house of the Judge. 
 Great was the surprise of each to hear that their 
 search had been ineffectual. 
 
 On being informed of the unsuccessful result of 
 their mission, the indignation of Oriz for a moment 
 overcame his habitual coolness. His piercing 
 black eye glaring with passion, as he angrily ac- 
 cused the lay brothers of having neglected their 
 duty. The next moment, however, he regained 
 his self-possession, and curtly excusing himself for 
 his warmth of manner, merely said that he had 
 been misinformed ; and the lay brothers quitted his 
 presence. 
 
 The door had hardly closed on them when Oriz 
 again gave full vent to his anger. ,Two elements 
 entered into his disappointment — ^the unsuccessful 
 termination of his plot to entrap the arch-heretic 
 and renegade monk Bernardino Ochino, and his con- 
 viction that Bernardino had received notice of the 
 danger which awaited him in sufficient time to allow 
 him to make his escape. A moment's reflection now 
 proved to Oriz that this warning had been conveyed 
 to Ochino, either directly or indirectly, by Pelletario. 
 He remembered the peculiar expression on the 
 Jesuit's countenance when he informed him of the 
 strong probability of Ochino's soon being in his 
 hands, as they were proceeding together from the 
 Convent of the Corpus Domini to the Este Palace 
 on their visit to the Duke. Oriz now viewed that 
 expression as a determination on the Jesuit's part 
 to give Ochino, his former friend, notice of the 
 danger he was in. His annoyance was still further 
 increased by the fact that he entertained a greater 
 jealousy of Pelletario than of any man living. As 
 the Duke's confessor, he divided with Oriz the 
 supreme power which he aimed at in the direction 
 of the ecclesiastical affairs of the Duchy. Like most 
 men who are slowly roused to passion, Oriz was a, 
 long time in subduing his feelings, and even after 
 mature reflection had shown him the imprudence 
 of allowing himself to be driven from his usual 
 calm, his anger against the Jesuit Pelletario con- 
 tinued unabated. 
 
 Strong as was the anger of Oriz against his rival, 
 it in no way hindered him from carrying out his 
 plot against the Duchess. He fully saw the value 
 her conversion would be to the Church of Rome, 
 as proving, as it would, that no dignitary was so 
 high or so powerf'ul as to be above its control 
 She would also by her recantation induce others 
 to follow her example, and thus save the Inqui- 
 sition a great amount of labour, for he had stili 
 sufficient discretion to perceive that it was better 
 for the interests of the Church that heresy should 
 be subdued with as little appearance of force las 
 possible. 
 
 Oriz now commenced systematically to break 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 125 
 
 down the spirit of the Duchess. In this he might 
 possibly have been instigated by her challenge 
 that no power he could employ should induce her 
 to prove faithless to her creed. The mind of 
 Ren^e was too much bewildered on the day of her 
 arrival at the castle thoroughly to estimate how 
 completely she was in the power of the Inquisitor. 
 The following day, however, she had good proof of 
 it. Determining to submit with patience to the 
 injustice practised on her, she next morning told 
 the woman in attendance to request that the Bible 
 and different books of devotion which had been 
 left in the Palace of San Francesco might be sent 
 to her. The woman conveyed the message to the 
 guard. He in his turn gave it to his superior officer, 
 who communicated it to the Inquisitors. It was 
 some hours before Rende received any reply. A 
 messenger then arrived from the Dominican Con- 
 vent informing her that the books she required 
 having been examined by the officials of the Holy 
 Office, were found to be heretical, and as such 
 ordered to be immediately destroyed. The mes- 
 senger continued, that the Reverend Father Oriz, 
 Chief Inquisitor, from an earnest wish for the wel- 
 fare of the soul of the misguided Duchess, had 
 forwarded her several Catholic books of devotion, 
 which he trusted she would read and profit by. 
 
 Rende indignantly refused to receive the books 
 sent to her by Oriz. As her anger subsided, she 
 perceived the deplorable condition she was in, de- 
 prived as she was not only of her Bible, but of 
 several Protestant devotional works she highly 
 prized, and among them one which had been dedi- 
 cated to her by John Calvin. She now devoutly 
 prayed that God would support her in her affliction, 
 and give her strength to bear with patience what- 
 ever He might ordain. But here she found a new 
 source of torture had been prepared for her. On 
 more than one occasion the woman in attendance 
 had interrupted her in her prayers — respectfully 
 enough it is true — and advised her to adopt those 
 in use among members of the Romish faith. 
 
 On the third day the door was opened by the 
 captain of the guard, and the Chief Inquisitor 
 entered the room. 
 
 Renee received him with dignity, and asked by 
 what authority he intruded himself into her pre- 
 sence. 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness," said Oriz with great 
 calmness, " I am sorry if my visit is disagreeable. 
 At the same time allow me to remind you that for the 
 present, and I trust for only a short time longer, our 
 relative positions are somewhat changed. My duty 
 alone has induced me to visit you, and humbly and 
 earnestly to implore you to listen to the arguments 
 which I shall bring forward to prove to you how 
 injurious, not only to your own soul, but to those 
 of your subjects is your present perverse behaviour." 
 
 " Once more, sir," said Rende, " I tell you I will 
 hear no arguments you have to offer. I am re- 
 solved, as I told you when first we met, to remain 
 true to my faith, and bitterly as I may feel the 
 cruelty you have practised on me in taking my 
 
 children from me, I trust God will give me power 
 to bear it. For imprisonment I care little ; at the 
 same lime you would oblige me by requesting the 
 attendant you have placed over me not to interfere 
 with me or to interrupt me in my devotions. If 
 I am not likely to succumb to your arguments, it is 
 not probable that those of an uneducated though 
 well-meaning woman will have any effect on me." 
 
 " I much regret, madam," said Oriz with great 
 politeness, " that she should in any manner have 
 interfered with your devotions. I trust you will 
 pardon her, as she meant well. At the same time I 
 promise you that this evening she shall be removed. 
 I will now leave your Highness, and hope the next 
 time I visit you to find you in a better frame of 
 mind." 
 
 Oriz now left the room. About two hours after- 
 wards the door again opened, and a woman of 
 mature age, in the dress of a nun, entered the prison, 
 stating that she had been sent by the Reverend 
 Father Oriz to remain with her Highness in place 
 of the person to whom she had objected. The 
 sight of the nun's costume convinced Rende that 
 she was still to be subjected to a system of persecu- 
 tion. But, considering it beneath her to complain, 
 she received the nun's salutation with courtesy, 
 The woman who had hitherto been Rente's com- 
 panion then left the room, and the door was imme- 
 diately closed and fastened. 
 
 Rende examined her new companion somewhat 
 attentively. Although bigotry seemed stamped 
 upon her face, at the same time it wore an expres- 
 sion of great intelHgence, mixed with kindness. 
 Her voice was clear and sympathetic. So pleasing 
 were her manners, that in a short time Renee's 
 repugnance considerably vanished. The nun during 
 the first day spoke not a word on religious subjects, 
 or alluded in any way to Ren^e imprisonment, 
 behaving to her with the same courtesy as she 
 would have shown had the Duchess been at liberty. 
 
 When they retired for the night, the nun not 
 only abstained from disturbing Ren^e in her devo- 
 tions, but performed her own so quietly and unobtru- 
 sively as to be unnoticed by Rende. Next morning 
 she found a small crucifix and a cup of holy water 
 placed over the nun's bed, but nothing in the 
 behaviour of her companion was to be objected to. 
 The Duchess soon began to feel interested in the 
 nun, who, without the least attempt to obtrude con- 
 versation on Rende, willingly spoke on any subject 
 broached by her Highness. 
 
 The two following days passed over without any 
 visit from Oriz. The nun the while continued to 
 increase in Renee's favour, so much so indeed, that 
 several times the Duchess had spoken of her im- 
 prisonment, the harshness she had experienced at 
 the hands of the Inquisitor, and the sorrow which 
 she felt at being separated from her daughters. 
 When the latter subject was touched on, the nun 
 showed great feeling. She strongly sympathised 
 with Rende, saying that before she became a nun 
 she had been married herself, and had two daughters, 
 both of whom had died. So she could easily 
 
126 
 
 THE SIRUGGLK IN FERRARA. 
 
 imagine how great must be the sorrow of the 
 Duchess at being parted from her children, especially 
 under such painful circumstances. 
 
 The next visit of Oriz was of shorter duration 
 than the former one. Ren^e implored him to give 
 her some information respecting her daughters, and 
 when they would be permitted to visit her. 
 
 " I greatly regret," said Oriz, " that I cannot obey 
 your Highness, either by allowing your daughters to 
 visit you, or by giving you any information regarding 
 them. Much as I grieve for your sorrow at their 
 absence, it is my duty to watch over the welfare of 
 their souls." 
 
 "But they are. my daughters," said Rende in- 
 dignantly, "and by what right does your Church 
 separate parent from child ?" « 
 
 - "Your Highness is in error," said Oriz emphati- 
 cally..- " In the eyes of God they are not your 
 children. You are now under the greater excom- 
 munication of the Church, which dissolves the re- 
 lationship between a parent excommunicated for 
 heresy, and a child still a member of the Church." 
 
 Reri^e looked at him sternly for a moment, and 
 then said, — 
 
 " Is a Church which claims such a power as that 
 entitled to the respect of any woman in whose 
 heart God has placed the natural affection of a 
 parent towards a child ? Leave my presence, sir. 
 Oh ! never till this moment did I feel the loss of 
 my power. Would that I could order you to be 
 cast forth for using in my presence so blasphemous 
 a remark !" 
 
 . Oriz appeared quite impassive under the anger of 
 the Duchess, and, bowing respectfully, left the room. 
 
 During the remainder of the day little conversa- 
 tion passed between the nun and Ren^e. On the 
 following morning the spirit of the poor Duchess 
 broke down as she spoke to the nun of the sorrow 
 she felt in being separated from her children, and 
 she wept bitterly. The nun sympathised with her; 
 but, at the same time, would not admit that the 
 Church had not the power to separate a child from 
 an excommunicated parent. And yet the nun's 
 objections were made with so much gentleness and 
 persuasiveness that Rende listened to them without 
 the anger she would have felt had they been uttered 
 in the sterner manner of Oriz. 
 
 When the Inquisitor next visited her, Rende 
 insisted upon her right to see her daughters, threaten- 
 ing that if it were further refused she would appeal 
 to the Duke her husband. She felt convinced that 
 he would not allow her any longer to be deprived 
 of their society. Oriz calmly told her that 
 his Highness, like a true son of the Church, had 
 willingly submitted to her authority. He had placed 
 the whole matter in the hands of the Holy Office, 
 promising not in any manner to interfere with it, 
 and had most faithfully kept his word. He would 
 not disguise from the Duchess that her husband 
 suffered bitterly because of her obstinacy, still he 
 remained faithful : to the pledge he had given. 
 Rende then inquired how long her imprisonment 
 was to endure. 
 
 " Until your Highness repents and returns to the 
 Church." 
 
 "And are my daughters taught to consider me 
 as dead to them?" said Ren^e. 
 
 "They are being taught to consider you, not only 
 as dead, but unworthy of respect so long as your 
 Highness shall continue in your present frame of 
 mind," said Oriz. "Still, with the charity inculcated 
 by our Church on her children, they are permitted 
 to pray that you may be released from the bonds 
 of Satan, and again restored to the Church." 
 
 For some days afterwards Ren^e continued to be 
 overpowered by terror at the threat of Oriz, that she 
 would never again be allowed to see her children. 
 She, however, was able to treat with contempt 
 that portion of it which indicated that she should 
 not meet them in heaven. The nun, from time 
 to time, pointed out to her that each day that her 
 daughters were separated from her, the stronger 
 would their aversion become to the errors she had 
 fallen into. 
 
 The mind of Ren^e now began to sink under 
 the persecution she was enduring.* Her anxiety 
 and agitation increased, and she gave way to alter- 
 nate fits of depression and excitement, till at last she 
 appeared to be almost bewildered. One morning 
 when she left her room, although still maintaining 
 her dignified demeanour, her countenance wore an 
 expression of stern determination. Without an- 
 swering the nun's inquiries as to whether she had 
 slept well, she requested the attendance of the 
 Father Pelletario. The nun was at first startled, 
 but, recovering herself, asked whether her Highness 
 would not prefer to see the Reverend Father Oriz. 
 
 " My orders were," said Renee imperiously, " to 
 see the Father Pelletario." 
 
 The nun, without hesitation, gave the order to 
 the sentinel, and Renee then retired to her room, 
 to await the arrival of the Jesuit Father. He re- 
 mained with her only a few moments, and then 
 left, saying that he would shortly return. He did 
 so soon afterwards, in company with the Duke,, 
 and they both entered Rente's room. 
 
 " I have the happiness to inform your Highness," 
 said Pelletario, "that the Duchess has seen the 
 error of the doctrine she had adopted, and is again 
 a member of our Holy Catholic Church." 
 
 Rende, still in a feverish state of excitement,, 
 said — 
 
 " True, I am a Catholic," but immediately after- 
 wards added, " Not of Rome." f 
 
 Pelletario was too pioud of his success to make 
 any objection to the last remark, and, in fact, pre- 
 tended not to hear it. In the afternoon of the 
 
 * An intense affection always exists between Renee and her 
 daughters. Anna, her eldest daughter, wife of the bigoted Duke of 
 Guise, even after her mother had again abjured the Catholic faith, 
 and, having returned to France, acted as protectress of the per- 
 secuted Protestants, continued faithfully attached to her. Her 
 daughter, £leanora, who died young, and whose name is so frequently 
 mentioned in connection with the unhappy passion of the poet Tasso, 
 showed, by a codicil in her will, the affection she entertained for her 
 mother to the last. . Among mamr legacies bequeathed to different 
 religious corporations, and to herfriends, she left to Madame de Fer- 
 rara, her mother, an emerald brooch, as being of her worldly goods 
 the object she most highly prized — " Come cosa pii cora che habbia." 
 
 t Her words were — *' lo sono Cattolico ma non Romano." 
 
THE STRUGGLE INFERRARA. 
 
 127 
 
 same day Ren^e confessed and attended mass in 
 the private chapel of the Palace. In the evening 
 the Princesses returned to Ferrara, and most affec- 
 tionate was the meeting between the Duchess and 
 her daughters. Indeed, so great was her joy, that 
 at the moment she seemed wholly to have for- 
 gotten the recantation she had made. The Duke 
 behaved with great kindness and amiability to his 
 wife and daughters, and the evening passed hap- 
 pily in the family circle. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. — TERESa'S PETITION. 
 
 We now return to the meeting of Teresa and the 
 Duchess. After the first burst qf their emotion 
 hac" somewhat subsided, Rende related to Teresa 
 the events which had occurred since she had seen 
 her. For some time Ren^e attempted to excuse 
 herself for her recantation. She succeeded so 
 indifferently, however, that Teresa perceived that 
 she was unable to admit to herself that there was 
 any force in the arguments she used to convince 
 her listener. When the Duchess had concluded, 
 both remained sUent for some moments. Suddenly 
 Renee burst out with — 
 
 " Teresa, my child, do not let the arguments I 
 have used hold me excused in your mind, for I 
 am myself convinced of their unsoundness; still 
 pity me, for I am worthy of pity. I am a mother 
 and tenderly attached to my children. The affec- 
 tion I bore tliem was, contrary even to my own 
 belief, greater than my attachment to the Pro- 
 testant creed. The Chief Inquisitor cunningly de- 
 tected my weak point, and tortured me upon it 
 with so much cruelty, that at last my courage 
 broke down. -I renounced my faith that I might 
 again have the happiness of clasping my dear chil- 
 dren to ray heart. May God forgive the sin I have 
 committed ! He is all merciful, and may have 
 compassion on me. The bodily torture with which 
 I was at first threatened, I could have borne, 
 though probably, after the weakness I have now 
 shown, you may think I should have failed even 
 then. Possibly I might have been able to bear 
 the separation ; but when, day by day, I was told 
 that they were being systematically taught to hold 
 me in aversion, and that every lesson they received 
 appeared to take firmer root in them, they must be 
 cruel indeed who would not look on my fault with 
 some forbearance !" 
 
 "But surely," said Teresa, "your Highness is 
 not a Catholic in your heart?" 
 
 " No, child," said the Duchess, rising from her 
 seat, her countenance wearing an expression of 
 great determination, " No, child, there is not in 
 Ferrara a warmer Protestant than I am at heart, 
 and in that faith I will continue. To-morrow, or 
 the following day at latest, I shall leave Ferrara 
 tor Beiriguardo, where for the future I shall re- 
 side, so that I may be screened as much as possible 
 trora public observation, and, I fear, in the eyes 
 of all good Protestants — execration. And now, my 
 child, tell me how you have fared since I saw you 
 last." 
 
 Teresa now related to the Duchess her adven- 
 tures. She and Madonna Ponte had heard the 
 proclamation which denounced as heretics all the 
 attendants Of her Highness. She told how they 
 had afterwards been conducted by a stranger to 
 the house of the blind widow, and of the illness 
 and death of Madonna Ponte. She then described 
 the manner in which she had heard from Gerolamo 
 of the place of her father's concealment, her subse- 
 quent imprisonment and adventures with the In- 
 quisitors. All this she narrated with great clear- 
 ness, saving the episode with Fra FeUx, which she 
 smoothed over considerably. Teresa next ex- l 
 pressed her anxiety respecting her father, and 
 begged the Duchess to obtain for her, if possible, 
 some information concerning him ; for she knew 
 that if he once fell into the hands of the Inquisitors, 
 little mercy Avould be shown him. 
 
 " Depend upon it, my child," said the Duchess, 
 " immediate inquiries shall be made respecting 
 him, and every protection afforded him. I will 
 speak to his Highness, who, I am sure, will at pre- 
 sent grant me any request I may make. I have no 
 doubt your father will be able to quit the territory, 
 for it would be too dangerous for him to remain 
 here." 
 
 " But," said Teresa, " he may be already arrested, 
 and if so, he will certainly be condemned to death." 
 
 " Admitting that he were arrested," said Rende, 
 " I think, Teresa, the power of the Duke is quite 
 strong enough to release him. But now tell me 
 what news have you heard of the pastor Ochino?" 
 
 Teresa replied, that during her imprisonment 
 she had more than- once heard from those confined 
 beside her, that Ochino had effected his escape into 
 the Venetian territories, but beyond that she knew 
 nothing. 
 
 " Neither do I," said the Duchess. " Indeed I 
 know nothing of what has taken place during my 
 imprisonment in the castle ; and, Teresa," she' con- 
 tinued, speaking slowly and emphatically, while the 
 tear gathered in her eye, " I dread to inquire. I feel 
 certain terrible deeds of cruelty have been done, 
 while I was unable to protect those that suffered ! 
 I dread to make inquiry, lest I should hear that 
 those whom I loved and respected have perished, 
 or, as in my own case, have shown themselves no 
 true soldiers of the cross. All my consolation is, 
 that now I am at liberty, I shall be better able to 
 succour those suffering for conscience' sake ; and 
 my first effort, Teresa, shall be to protect your 
 father. I expect the Duke will shortly arrive, and 
 I will speak to him on the subject." 
 
 After a little further conversation. Madonna 
 Bonifacio entered the room. Rende having ex- 
 pressed her desire to receive the Princesses, Ma- 
 donna Bonifacio retired, and in a few minutes 
 returned in company with them. The Princesses 
 Lucrezia and Eleanora, before payingtheir respects 
 to their mother, advanced towards Teresa, and each 
 kissed her affectionately. They afterwards con- 
 versed with Teresa with gre^t a,nimation, doing all 
 in their power to impress upon her the pleasure 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 they felt in seeing her again at liberty. In a short 
 time the Duke entered the room, and welcomed 
 Teresa with great cordiality. When he had said 
 a few words of encouragement and kindness to 
 her, the Duchess told him that she wished to speak 
 to him in private, and the Princesses and Madonna 
 Bonifacio retired to another part of the room. 
 
 " I have a great favour to ask your Highness,'' 
 said Rende, "and I trust you will grant it." 
 
 " It would be difficult to imagine a favour which 
 you could ask, and which I would not grant," said 
 the Duke. 
 
 " It is on a subject of greater interest to Teresa 
 than to me," said Rende, "for it relates to the 
 safety of her father." 
 
 The Duke, turning towards Teresa, said, — * 
 
 "And is your father at present in Ferrara?" 
 
 Teresa remained silent, casting a glance of alarm 
 towards Rende, as if meekly appealing to her for 
 support. The Duke understood her, and con- 
 tinued,— 
 
 " Nay, my child, you need not be afraid. I have 
 nothing but kindly feelings toward your father. 
 Much as I regret his religious views, I have a 
 profound respect for his integrity and learning. 
 In every respect he has proved himself an up- 
 right Judge, and a more hon'oured character it 
 would be difficult to imagine. He is, however, I 
 am sorry to say, accused of having harboured 
 in his house the ex-general of the Capuchins, 
 and assisted him in escaping." 
 
 The Duke here stopped for a moment as if some 
 difficulty had occurred to him. 
 
 "But how is it," he said, at length, "that your 
 father should be at present in Ferrara, when so 
 great an intimacy existed between him and Ochino, 
 who has escaped? We have reason to beHeve 
 that they left Ferrara together, and it is hardly 
 likely they would separate. Should your father 
 be found in company with Ochino, even my power 
 to protect him might be in vain." 
 
 " I think I can easily explain that matter," said 
 Rende. " The Count Biagio Rosetti has evidently 
 returned to Ferrara to protect his child." 
 
 "The reason appears to be a good one," said 
 the Duke. " Be assured, Teresa, 1 will do all in 
 my power to protect him." 
 
 Then, turning to an usher, the Duke told him to 
 request the immediate attendance of the captain of 
 the guard. The usher left the room and shortly 
 afterwards returned with the captain. 
 
 "You know the features of the Judge Biagio 
 Rosetti," said the Duke, "and would recognise 
 him when you see him?" 
 
 "Certainly, your Highness," said the captain. 
 
 " He is at present in Ferrara," said the Duke. 
 " I wish you to find him out, and, while treating him 
 with every mark of respect, conduct him as though 
 under arrest to the Belvedere Palace, where you 
 will see that everything is prepared for his accom- 
 modation, and that he is well cared for in every 
 way consistent with his safe custody. That done, 
 let it be reported to me without loss of time. Bear 
 
 in mind that I wish the utmost secrecy to be ob 
 served in this affair." 
 
 "As greW: secrecy is to be observed, I had 
 better, I suppose, make the arrest after dark ; but 
 I am not aware where the Count resides." . 
 
 " True," said the Duke, " I had forgotten that." 
 Then, turning to Teresa (who was talking to the 
 young Princesses), he told her to inform the cap- 
 tain of the guard where her father was at present. 
 
 With some little difficulty Teresa described the 
 position of the cabin which the blind widow lived 
 in, and the captain of the guard immediately left 
 on his mission, promising that he would report to 
 his Highness in the evening all that had taken 
 place. Teresa, with a lighter heart than she had 
 experienced for some time past, spent the remainder 
 of the afternoon in the society of the Ducal family. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. AN ARREST AND RE-UNION. 
 
 The Becca-morti, ever since Pedretti had given 
 Teresa in charge to the syndaco, had felt a kind of 
 grudge towards him, and had taunted him for being 
 a spy. This Pedretti so resented, that in one or two 
 instances there was an approach to a fight. Because 
 of the dispeace thus caused, Pedretti was transferred 
 to the Lazzaretto, where his duties were to assist in 
 the removal of the dead bodies, and to make himself 
 useful on the male-side. The very morning after 
 Pedretti's entrance. Madonna Ponte died ; and her 
 body was, of course, turned over to Pedretti to be 
 removed to the cemetery. On the body Pedretti 
 found a Protestant prayer-book, bearing an inscrip- 
 tion which he could not read, and an erribroidered 
 velvet purse with a red clasp, and containing several 
 ducats. The former he wished to deliver up to the 
 Holy Office, and for that purpose went to the 
 doctor, whom he found with the syndaco-substitute. 
 The substitute, who seemed to have marked him 
 as the man who gave Teresa in charge, put many 
 difficulties in the way of his getting access to the 
 Holy Office. Pedretti was therefore compelled to 
 tell his business, and delivered up the prayer-book, 
 which he had guessed had belonged to one of the 
 Este family from the white-eagle crest in the out- 
 side. The substitute, on opening it, found written 
 on the fly-leaf :• — 
 
 " Alia Madonna Ponte, 
 
 " Renee de Francia, 
 
 " Duchessa de Ferrara." 
 
 The substitute pressed rather close with his 
 questions, for Carlo persisted in his right to a 
 reward ; and as he was at last compelled to acknow- 
 ledge that the book was not the only thing he had 
 found on the body, the substitute threatened to 
 search him. Carlo terrified, delivered up the purse, 
 which was the signal for the physician to interpose. 
 
 " Stay one moment," he said, " this affair is 
 within my jurisdiction." Then turning to Carlo, 
 he continued, " You have committed the gravest 
 offence that can be perpetrated in the Lazzaretto 
 short of murder, and you shall receive for it the 
 punishment you merit." 
 
 A cry of terror now escaped from the wretched 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 129 
 
 old man, and he abjectly implored forgiveness. 
 It was in vain, however ; he was led away to a 
 cell used as the Lazzaretto prison, there to await 
 his execution the next morning. In the course of 
 the day, however, the physician took a milder view 
 of the offence, and ordered instead of death a sin- 
 gular punishment, which had frequently been in- 
 flicted on notorious thieves in Ferrara since the 
 days of Duke Borso. 
 
 Next morning Carlo Pedretti, after having the 
 tip of his nose amputated, that he might be recog- 
 nised should he return, and a few pence given him 
 to prevent his dying of starvation, was landed on 
 the further bank of the river and banished from the 
 Duchy, with the assurance that, if ever he were 
 again found in the Ferrarese territory, he would 
 infallibly be hung. 
 
 The prayer-book and purse were, of course, duly 
 handed over to the Holy Office, 
 
 We must now return to the Judge Biagio Rosetti. 
 As the reader is aware, he has remained concealed 
 under the roof of the blind widow since he quitted 
 the house of Giacomo the ferryman. And happy 
 was the poor woman to be able to afford him all 
 protection and shelter. From time to time Giacomo, 
 the ferryman, brought news of what was taking 
 place in Ferrara. It was some days, however, after 
 Teresa's arrest before her father was aware of, it. 
 True, Giacomo had heard of it from his friend 
 Gerolamo; but as the latter did not seem quite 
 certain on the subject, the boatman, rightly judging 
 that as ill news always arrives too soon, thought it 
 better to conceal it from the Judge. The lull in 
 the plague which afterwards occurred confined 
 Gerolamo to the Boschetto, so that he had no op- 
 portunity of giving further information to Giacomo. 
 And as a strict quarantine had since then been 
 established against the entrance into Ferrara of 
 any persons living in the suburbs, he had great 
 difficulty in obtaining any certain information. 
 
 Day after day now passed without the Judge 
 receiving news of his daughter, and his anxiety 
 became intense. Several times he was about to 
 disguise himself and enter the city at night, but the 
 strict quarantine regulations were still kept up, and 
 all persons passing through the gates had to appear 
 not only before the sanitary officer, but the inspector 
 of police. Not that there was, in a medical point 
 of view, the slightest need for this rigorous and 
 vexatious system being maintained. The plague 
 had now completely subsided, but the rule was 
 kept up at the request of the Inquisition. Under 
 the veil of a beneficial sanitary regulation, a police 
 inspection for the detection of denounced heretics 
 might thus be carried on with undiminished energy 
 and with that vigilance characteristic of the opera- 
 tions of the Inquisition in Ferrara. 
 
 Gerolamo and Giacomo strenuously advised Ro- 
 setti against making any attempt of the kind. They 
 reminded him that a heavy price had been set upon 
 his head, and fortunate indeed would be the spy 
 who discovered him. 
 9 
 
 Rosetti could not close his eyes to the force of 
 their arguments. Were he detected, and his arrest 
 to become known to his daughter, it might lead to 
 her death as well as to his own. He remembered 
 that Gerolamo had informed Teresa of his being in 
 Ferrara ; and he rightly judged that his still being 
 at large was a proof that his daughter had refused 
 to inform her judges where he might be found, 
 even if they were aware that she knew the secret. 
 He judged, also, that in her imprisonment she was 
 not subjected to any extreme severity; and he at 
 last determined to remain in his present conceal- 
 ment lather than hazard an appearance in the city, 
 for his detection might be most prejudicial to his 
 daughter. 
 
 Several days passed, Rosetti's anxiety becoming 
 greater with each succeeding day. At length the 
 delay became unsupportable, and he once more 
 determined to make an attempt to enter the 
 city. 
 
 One evening soon after, the door suddenly opened, 
 and a man entered the room. After casting a 
 glance round him, as if to ascertain who were pre- 
 sent, he whispered to some one outside, and then 
 closed the door. He advanced to the Judge, and 
 said to him, with much courtesy — 
 
 " Count Biagio Rosetti, I am ordered by his 
 Highness the Duke to arrest you. You must con- 
 sider yourself my prisoner." 
 
 For a moment Rosetti wa? too much startled to 
 make any reply. The blind widow, who was seated 
 at the opposite side of the table, recognising the 
 presence of a stranger, cried aloud with terror. Re- 
 covering from his surprise, Rosetti, who, by the 
 murky light of the lamp, did not recognise the 
 features of the captain of the guard, partly concealed 
 as they were by a hood and loose capote, replied — 
 
 " On what charge am I arrested ? — I must re- 
 quest you to show me your authority," 
 
 " I am the captain of the Duke's guard," said the 
 officer, " and am acting by his authority. The 
 charge I know not. But be assured, in ordering 
 your arrest, his Highness is actuated by no un- 
 friendly motive. You must accompany me, for I 
 was desired by his Highness to report to him after 
 I had fulfilled his orders." 
 
 Rosetti, perceiving that any remonstrance would 
 be useless, took an affectionate leave of the poor 
 widow. He told the captain of the guard that he 
 was ready, and they quitted the house together. 
 
 The two soldiers, who were partly dressed as 
 civilians, followed them, and the captain of the 
 guard, without informing the Judge to what place 
 he was conducting him, took the road to the Bel- 
 vedere Palace. On their way the Judge made one 
 or two attempts to enter into conversation with his 
 companion, who invariably replied to him either 
 with evasive answers or polite refusals, under the 
 plea that he hardly considered himself at liberty to 
 converse with his prisoner, much as he wished to 
 do so. 
 
 " But I beg of you to answer me one question," 
 said Rosetti at last. " Tell me if you have heard 
 
130 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 of my poor daughter, who, as you may know, was 
 one of the ladies-in-waiting on her Highness ?" 
 
 " I have no reason for objecting to answer that 
 question," said the officer. " Your daughter is now 
 at liberty, and enjoying the hospitality and protec- 
 tion of her Highness the Duchess." 
 
 " Her Highness the Duchess ! " said Rosetti 
 with astonishment. " I heard that her Highness 
 had been placed under restraint." 
 
 " True," replied the captain of the guard. " Her 
 
 Highness was for some time under restr.rint, but 
 ! having seen the error of her ways, she has again 
 I become a member of our Holy Catholic Church, 
 and has admitted die authority of his Holiness the ■ 
 Pope as its visible head on earth. The Duchess 
 was then liberated, and is at present residing with ; 
 the Duke, at the Este Palace, and the Princesses 
 have been restored to her. I saw the young lady, 
 your daughter, in their society this afternoon." 
 For Rosetti there was both gall and honey in 
 
 Pat'e 129. 
 
 these words. Happy, indeed, was he to hear that 
 his daughter was liberated, and under the protec- 
 tion of the Duchess ; but this was strongly qualified 
 by the fear that, following the example of her illus- 
 trious mistress, she might also have become a per- 
 vert. True, he knew her to have been strongly 
 attached to the principles of the Protestant faith, 
 but he could not disguise from himself that she 
 was yoting and cbnfiduig, and was the:efo:e more 
 
 likely to be swayed by the example of one whom 
 she so much loved and respected. But his surprise 
 at the Duchess having recanted almost for the 
 moment got the better of his alarm, and he began' 
 to suspect that the captain of the guard must have 
 been misinformed. 
 
 " Did I clearly understand you," he said, " that 
 her Highness the Duchess has returned to the 
 Church of Rome?" 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 131 
 
 " It is perfectly true," said the officer, " but 
 excuse me if I remind you that it is hardly in 
 accordance with my duty to converse with you on 
 subjects connected with the Palace." 
 
 Rosetti made no further remark, and they con- 
 tinued their way. The porter who opened the 
 gates seemed quite prepared for them, and had 
 evidently been expecting them. The captain of 
 the guard conducted his prisoner into the Palace, 
 whsre they were met by a major-domo, who led 
 Rosetti to the apartments which had been assigned 
 to him. 
 
 " With your permission," said the captain of the 
 guard, " I will now take my leave, as I must return 
 to the Este Palace to report to his Highness that 
 his orders are obeyed. Till you hear from me 
 again, you may consider yourself at liberty to visit 
 any part of the Palace or grounds you please, but 
 you must not stir beyond them. I should also 
 inform you that guards will be placed around the 
 walls to prevent your escape. But I know you 
 have too much respect for the wishes of his High- 
 ness to attempt it." So saying, he bowed and 
 quitted the apartment. 
 
 Rosetti was now left with the major-domo, who 
 inquired if he had any orders to give. On being 
 assured that nothing would be required, he left the 
 room. Rosetti had some difficulty in realising his 
 position. The change of scene from the miserable 
 hovel of the blind widow to his present residence 
 in the Palace was very great ; but the change in 
 his daughtei''s case was still greater ; for only an 
 hour before he had supposed she was incarcerated in 
 the dungeons of the Palazzo della Ragione. But 
 at what price had these extraordinary changes been 
 effected ? Could any reward or other temptation 
 have induced his dear daughter to change her 
 religion ? A thousand times better that she should 
 have remained a prisoner than have sought safety 
 for herself and her father by the sacrifice of her 
 soul's welfare. 
 
 Again and again he reflected on the subject. 
 The only hope remaining to him was that the love 
 of the Duchess and her children for Teresa might 
 possibly induce them to obtain her freedom with- 
 out the sacrifice of her faith. Should he have the 
 happiness to meet her, earnestly would he beg of 
 her to continue true to the creed in which she had 
 been brought up, and to refuse every temptation, 
 no matter how brilliant and plausible, to become a 
 convert to the Churchrf)f Rome. 
 
 Morning found Rosetti still a prey to anxiety. 
 After his breakfast he quitted the Palace to enjoy 
 the fresh breeze blowing across the river. He 
 remained here for some hours, when a servant ap- 
 proached him and said that his presence was 
 required in the Palace. Rosetti inquired who 
 wanted him. The servant believed it was the 
 captain of the Duke's guard. Rosetti now returned, 
 and found his daughter Teresa, accompanied by 
 Madonna Bonifacio, awaiting him. In a moment 
 
 parent and child were in each other's arms, 
 " Oh ! my dear father," said Teresa, w 
 
 when she 
 
 had somewhat recovered herself, " how terrible has 
 been my anxiety respecting you ! " 
 
 " Not more so, my child, than mine has been on 
 your account. 'Thank God, we have met at last. 
 Is it true that you have been imprisoned ? " 
 
 " Quite true," said Teresa. " I was only liberated 
 yesterday when I was about to undergo the torture 
 by order of the Inquisition." 
 
 Rosetti, taking his daughter's hand, looked at 
 her anxiously for some moments, as if wishing to 
 put a question, and yet afraid to ask it. Summon- 
 ing up courage, he at last said, his voice faltering — 
 
 " Teresa, my child, what price was paid for your 
 liberation ? " 
 
 "Price, my dear father?" said Teresa: "I 
 hardly understand you. I was liberated by the 
 Duke at the request of her Highness and the 
 Princesses, solely because of the love they bear me." 
 
 " Thank God, my child, thank God," said Rosetti, 
 with a sigh of contentment. 
 
 Although Teresa did not understand her father's 
 allusion. Madonna Bonifacio did. 
 
 " Yes," she said to him, " Teresa is right. The 
 love they bore her induced them to demand her 
 liberation. I think I fully understand you. You 
 feared that she had become a member of our Holy 
 Church. That she may do so in the end I de- 
 voutly pray; but I may tell you that his Highness 
 the Duke has especially ordered that her religion 
 shall not be interfered with. Like ourselves, he 
 hopes that she will of her own accord acknowledge 
 the truth of our creed. But let me change the 
 conversation," she continued. " I am directly com- 
 missioned by his Highness and the Duchess, to 
 advise you without delay to leave Ferrara. You 
 have already been denounced by the Inquisition, 
 and should you fall into their hands a very severe 
 fate might await you. His Highness proposes that 
 until you have determined in what part you will 
 take up your residence Teresa should remain 
 under the care of the Duchess, with the full as- 
 surance that her religion shall be respected. As 
 all your possessions have been confiscated, you 
 may possibly be in want of money, and I am 
 directed by her Highness to put this purse in your 
 hands, and to assure you, that when you require 
 more you have only to make known your wish by 
 letter, and more shall be forwarded to you." 
 
 Rosetti willingly accepted the offer, and most 
 gratefully thanked the Duchess for her kindness. 
 He at once determined that his destination should 
 be Zurich. 
 
 Teresa remained for some hours with her father, 
 and then took an affectionate farewell of him, 
 requesting him to write to her on every possible 
 opportunity, and promising that she would herself 
 be a good correspondent. The carretta was then 
 ordered to be in readiness, and after one more 
 long embrace. the father and child separated. 
 
 Rosetti remained only a short time in solitude after 
 Teresa's departure, for the captain of the guard 
 entered and asked him whether he wished to leave 
 the Ferrarese territory. Rosetti told him that he 
 
132 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 did, and the officer said, that in that case the 
 sooner he left the better ; for strong as the Duke's 
 power of protection was, there were other powers 
 in Ferrara not less so. Much as Rosetti wished to 
 see his beloved daughter again, he thought it more 
 prudent to give up the idea rather than run the 
 risk of falling into the hands of the Inquisition. 
 
 The captain then asked in what direction he 
 wished to go, and said that when he knew that he 
 would be better able to form some plan of escape. 
 
 " My desire," said Rosetti, " is to reach Zurich, 
 as I know that many of my countrymen are already 
 there." 
 
 " I think then your better plan would be to get 
 some one to accompany you, on whose fidelity you 
 could rely." • 
 
 Rosetti reflected for a moment, and would have 
 proposed Camille Gurdon, but of him he had not 
 been able to obtain any information. He therefore 
 replied that the only person he felt he could trust 
 was Giacomo, who he believed would willingly go 
 with him. 
 
 As Giacomo was not difficult to find, the captain 
 
 of the guard sent a messenger to request his attend- 
 ance. Giacomo entered willingly into the idea of 
 accompanying the Judge to Zurich. He could 
 leave his ferrj-, he said, in charge of his brother-in- 
 law, and, possibly a ter a few months' absence, he 
 might be able to return to Ferrara without being 
 in so much danger as he was at present. 
 
 Although the captain easily understood his allu- 
 sion, he made no remark, but merely asked Giacomo 
 if he should be willing to start that evening. The 
 ferryman said he should like nothing better ; and 
 after nightfall he promised to be with his biaat at 
 the landing-place opposite the palace, to ferry the 
 Judge across, and they could then continue their 
 course through Mantua to the mountains. 
 
 All being agreed on, Giacomo left the Palace, and 
 the captain remained with Rosetti the rest of the 
 day. At night they proceeded to the river-side, 
 where they found Giacomo, true to his appoint- 
 ment, waiting for them. The Judge, after giving 
 the captain many messages to Teresa, bade him 
 farewell, and the next moment the boat pushed ofi 
 from the shore. 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 133 
 
 CHAPTER XXXt. — THE INQUISITOR ON THE RACK. 
 
 T was because 
 of ill-health, 
 and not from 
 any want of 
 interest in 
 Teresa's ex- 
 amination, 
 that Oriz was 
 not present at 
 the Palace of 
 Justice on the 
 morning of 
 her liberation. 
 Forsomedays 
 he had been 
 suffering se- 
 verely. He 
 had not en- 
 ' joyed a day's 
 perfect health 
 since Rende 
 had been ar- 
 rested, and 
 his malady had gradually increased in severity; Of 
 the nature of his disease no one could form an 
 opinion. He did not complain, but bore his suf- 
 ferings with great fortitude. At last his pallid coun- 
 tenance and drooping form so testified to the pro- 
 gress of his disease, that his brother monks began 
 to be anxious. To their inquiries he always replied 
 that nothing ailed him. Yet his answers, though 
 given with courtesy, were remarkable for more than 
 usual brevity; and there was in them a. tone of 
 anger which did not encourage his friends to renew 
 their solicitations. 
 
 One evening Oriz was not present at supper as 
 usual, and a conversation arose among the monks 
 ' as to the cause of his absence, all attributing it to 
 ill-health. The general opinion was that the extra- 
 ordinary attention lately given to the duties of the 
 Holy Office by their Reverend Brother had been 
 more than his constitution could sustain. In sup- 
 port of this opinion several of them mentioned that 
 during the night a light was seen in the chamber 
 occupied by Oriz, his shadow frequently passing 
 between it and the window, as if both mind and 
 body were employed. 
 
 Fra Theodore, who had been educated as a phy- 
 sician, and was the leech of the convent, urged on 
 the monks that it was their duty to reason with 
 their Reverend Brother on the little care he took of 
 his health. For some time past he had observed 
 with great alarm the change which had taken place 
 in the Reverend Father's appearance. It was finally 
 determined, however, to postpone any action for a 
 few days, as they would then be better able to judge 
 of the necessity of bringing the matter under Oriz's 
 notice, even at the risk of incurring his displeasure. 
 Oriz's health, so far from improving, became 
 
 worse ; but still he continued to perform without 
 intermission his duties as Inquisitor. 
 
 All now admitted- the necessity of some action 
 being taken. Anxious to avoid exciting Oriz's 
 anger, Fra Theodore proposed that they should 
 first take the opinion of Dr. Ludovico Sigismondi, 
 one of the most eminent physicians in the city. 
 Fra Theodore said he could do this without 
 awakening the suspicions of Oriz. He had already 
 asked Dr. Sigismondi to assist him in the case of 
 one of the lay brothers, who was lying dangerously 
 ill in the convent. When the doctor came to see 
 his patient, Theodore would bring him into the 
 presence of Oriz as if accidentally. They could 
 have some casual conversation with him, and from 
 the expression of his countenance and his general 
 appearance, the doctor might be able to form some 
 opinion of his case. 
 
 When Dr. Sigismondi called at the convent next 
 day, Fra Theodore told him of the anxiety of the 
 brethren respecting Oriz's health, and requested the 
 doctor to see him as a favour. As Oriz objected 
 to being questioned on the state of his health, Fra 
 Theodore said they would have to make the illness 
 of the lay brother the ostensible reason for their 
 visit. Sigismondi having assented, they proceeded 
 to Oriz's room, where they found him occupied 
 with the secretary of the Holy Office. Oriz gave 
 them a suspicious glance. He was reassured, 
 however, by the tact of the doctor, who informed 
 him that his reason for calling was to ask permission 
 for the lay brother to be taken away from the con- 
 vent. The confinement was prejudicial to his health, 
 he said, and it would be advisable to remove him 
 from the city to the dwelling of a relative, a farmer 
 in the mountains near Parma. 
 
 Oriz readily granted the request. He appeared 
 to be relieved when he found that the visit was 
 not in reference to himself, and conversed affably 
 with the doctor for some minutes. When they 
 had left Oriz, Fra Theodore asked the doctor what 
 he thought of his appearance. 
 
 " He is far from well," replied the doctor, " that 
 is evident. From the unnaturally keen and anxious 
 expression of his eye, it appears to me that his 
 ailment is more mental than bodily. Probably he 
 exerts his mind too much." 
 
 " That is precisely my own opinion," said Fra 
 Theodore. 
 
 " Then, of course, there can be_ but one remedy 
 — perfect rest — and you should impress upon him 
 the necessity of taking it." 
 
 " I would do so willingly, but unless he asks me, 
 it would be indiscreet for me to speak to him on 
 the subject." 
 
 In the evening Oriz was present at supper, and 
 appeared to be more cheerful than usual. There 
 was, however, an air of excitement about him which 
 indicated that his vivacity was forced. More than 
 once he spoke to Fra Theodore about the health 
 
134 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 of the lay brother, and the opinion which Dr. 
 Sigismondi had given. He then inquired whether 
 the doctor had not the reputation of being a very 
 clever man. 
 
 ' No one in Ferrara stands higher in his profes- 
 sion," was Fra Theodore's reply. 
 
 Oriz made no. further remark, but entered into 
 conversation with some of the other monks. 
 
 Next morning he sent for Fra Theodore, osten- 
 sibly to inquire for the health of the lay brother. 
 Hearing that he intended to quit the convent that 
 day, Oriz made some remarks about the ability of 
 Dr. Sigismondi, and then inquired where he resided. 
 Fra Theodore informed him, but Oriz seemed in- 
 different to the reply, and the conversation turned 
 to other subjects^ ♦ 
 
 After mass at noon Oriz entered his litter, telling 
 the bearers, in a tone loud enough to be heard by 
 the monks who surrounded him, that he wished to ! 
 be carried to the Archiepiscopal Palace. They had ' 
 hardly gone half-way, however, when he stopped 
 them, and said that he wished instead to be carried 
 to the house of Dr. Sigismondi. Fortunately he 
 found the doctor at home. He was received with j 
 the most profound respect, and the servant having 
 quitted the room, the doctor quietly waited for the 
 Inquisitor to explain the object of his visit. A 
 singular change had come over Oriz in the presence 
 of the doctor. His habitual calm self-possession 
 had left him, and he appeared anxious and timid. 
 
 "You will do me a great favour," he com- 
 menced, with a tremor in his voice, " if, when you 
 call at our convent, you will not mention my visit 
 to any of the brethren. They are most anxious 
 about my health, and I do not wish to alarm them," 
 he continued, looking in the physician's face, as if 
 to try and read there whether the statement just 
 made was believed. 
 
 "You may rely upon my secrecy,'' said Dr. 
 Sigismondi. " My confession in your ear would 
 not be more sacred than yours will be in mine." 
 
 " I have no bodily ailment to complain of, nor any 
 pain," said Oriz ; " I am only weak and nervous." 
 
 "Can you attribute it to any cause?" said the 
 physician. 
 
 Oriz looked at him with a doubting expression, 
 and then hesitatingly replied, — 
 
 " 1 know, of no cause." 
 
 " Do you sleep well at night?" 
 
 " I get but little rest," replied Oriz ; and then 
 after a moment's pause, as if he dreaded to make 
 the avowal, " and that does not refresh me. When I 
 rise I feel even more fatigued than when I lay down." 
 
 "You cannot sleep, then?" 
 
 Oriz hesitated a moment, and then said, " If I 
 but lay my head on the pillow, I am asleep." 
 
 " Is your sleep disturbed by dreams, then, that 
 you complain of being fatigued when you awake ?" 
 
 Oriz, drawing his seat nearer and taking the 
 doctor's hand, looked in his face in an imploring 
 manner, and said, " Doctor, that is the most difficult 
 question of all to answer. When I awake in the 
 morning I am fully aware that I have been suffer- 
 
 ing from a terrible dream, but of its nature I have 
 not the most remote recollection. The awful effects 
 of the m.ental torture I have undergone are every 
 morning apparent in profuse perspiration on my 
 brows, and the complete exhaustion of my body. 
 It is the dread of this unremembered vision, and 
 not the indisposition to sleep, that keeps me awake. 
 And now, doctor," he continued, rising from his 
 seat, and clasping his hands in an attitude of prayer, 
 " find if you can some remedy against this terrible 
 infliction, and I will consider you the greatest 
 benefactor I ever had." 
 
 Oriz seated himself with an expression on his 
 countenance in which shame and anxiety were 
 mingled — anxiety to hear the doctor's answer, and 
 humiliation at the earnestness of his appeal. The 
 doctor looked at him for some moments, and then 
 said, — 
 
 '■ The remedy. Reverend Father, is in your own 
 hands. You have overworked your brain, and it 
 requires repose. Take my advice, and leave 
 Ferrara without delay. Go to some quiet spot, 
 and remain there till your health be re-established. 
 You will then be able to resume your duties not 
 only more agreeably to yourself, but with greater 
 benefit to others. Your brain is unable to sustain 
 such fatigue as it is at present undergoing. I could 
 say no more if I should talk till to-morrow." 
 
 Oriz seemed much impressed with tliese remarks. 
 He said that, although he was afraid the affairs of 
 the Church in Ferrara could hardly permit of his 
 absence, he would turn the subj ect over in his 
 mind. He then took his leave, but had not reached 
 the door when he turned back. Taking the doctor's 
 hand in both of his, and pressing it, with great 
 earnestness he said, — 
 
 " Doctor, promise me once more that you will 
 not mention what has occurred between us to any 
 of the brethren of the convent, should they hear 
 that I have seen you." 
 
 " You may be perfectly satisfied," replied Dr. 
 Sigismondi, " that not one word of our conversation 
 shall pass my lips." 
 
 The discovery of Teresa, which Oriz heard of 
 on his arrival at the convent, and the probability 
 of his now finding her father and Ochino, were of 
 such paramount interest, that he resolved to post- 
 pone his retirement from affairs till another oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 The reader is already aware of the examination 
 of Teresa and its result. Although, to economize 
 his strength, Oriz had sent his secretary to conduct 
 Teresa's examination at the Palace of Justice, he 
 had remained at home in a state of great anxiety 
 to hear the result of her confession, that he might 
 act upon it without delay. On hearing what had 
 happened, his anger knew no bounds. The prin- 
 cipal clue to his discovery of the Judge and 
 Ochino had eluded him, and that, too, by the 
 agency of the man towards whom he probably 
 cherished greater animosity than towards any other 
 — the Jesuit Pelletario. Oriz imagined that he had 
 received from him a gross and unpardonable pro- 
 
H 
 W 
 SO 
 
 w 
 
 o 
 
 > 
 H 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 137 
 
 vocation. Unable as he was to prove it, he yet 
 felt convinced that the escape of Ochino had, 
 to a certain extent, been due to his agency. To 
 this had been added another and still more un- 
 pardonable offence. Pelletario had received the 
 recantation of the Duchess, and had thus snatched 
 from the hands of Oriz the honour of her conversion 
 to the Church of Rome. And now the measure 
 of his offence was full to overflowing, for he had 
 taken from under the authority of the Inquisition 
 one of its prisoners, thus setting at nought not only 
 the powers of the Holy Office, but the Church itself 
 So intense was the indignation of Oriz at Pelle- 
 tario that, for the moment, he forgot the secretary's 
 complaint about the rebellious conduct of Brother 
 Felix, who had quitted the convent without per- 
 mission, falsely stating that he had been authorised 
 by the Chief Inquisitor to conduct an examination 
 of a female witness in private. Too much occu- 
 pied to pay any great attention to the accusation, 
 Oriz had sufficient self-possession to know that the 
 crime committed by Brother Felix deserved the 
 severest punishment. He immediately ordered 
 him to be confined in one of the dungeons of the 
 Inquisition. The report from the Chief Inquisitor 
 to the General of the Order was now to be placed 
 in the hands of another brother, and Fra Felix 
 was to accompany him to Rome as a prisoner. 
 He would there be judged by the General of the 
 Order, and due punishment would be mflicted. 
 
 The same day the secretary formally drew up the 
 accusation, and next morning Fra Felix was sent 
 under escort, a prisoner to Rome. 
 
 Oriz now turned his attention to the liberation of 
 Teresa, and the affront offered him by Pelletario. 
 The more he thought on the subject, the more ex- 
 cited he became. His eyes shone with an almost 
 unearthly light, and he walked the room with an 
 elasticity of step strangely different from his ha- 
 bitual staid pace. More singular still was the 
 expression of his countenance. He had attained 
 such control over the muscles of his face that he 
 could at will subdue all symptoms of emotion. 
 But now his face, especially the muscles round his 
 mouth, was in incessant motion, and his lips moved 
 rapidly, as if he were speaking on some deeply 
 interesting subject, although not a word escaped 
 them. 
 
 In this state he continued for a considerable 
 time. Suddenly stopping in his walk, he observed 
 the eyes of his secretary and Fra Theodore fixed 
 upon him, an expression of astonishment being 
 depicted on their countenances. In a moment he 
 recovered himself, although evidently annoyed that 
 the two monks had observed the state of excite- 
 ment he was in. He attempted to frame some 
 excuse, but he did this so artificially, that it seemed 
 rather to excite than to allay their curiosity. Oriz 
 saw that his excuse was futile, and, pleading fatigue, 
 he hurriedly left the room and went to his own cell. 
 When he had closed the door, he seated him- 
 self on the bed, and, folding his arms, endeavoured 
 to collect his thoughts and determine upon some 
 
 plan of action. But all in vain. Circumstances 
 of the most heterogeneous description, and without 
 the shghtest connection with each other, passed 
 through his brain with unnatural rapidity. Ochino's 
 escape, the recantation of the Duchess, and espe- 
 cially the liberation of Teresa without the permis- 
 sion of the Holy Office, mingled themselves in his 
 mind with the persecutions he was conducting 
 against some of the principal heretics, and other 
 matters. Not once, however, did his thoughts recur 
 to the terrible dream which haunted him nightly. 
 
 At last, by a violent effort, he succeeded in con- 
 centrating his attention on Teresa's liberation. He 
 felt that it was a premeditated affront, both to the 
 office he held and to himself, and that it was his 
 duty to resent it. But what steps should he take, 
 and against whom? He thought Pelletario was 
 the principal offender. A moment's consideration, 
 however, convinced him that the Jesuit would 
 shelter himself under the plea that the girl's libe- 
 ration was accomplished by order of the Duke, 
 and that therefore he was not responsible for it. 
 The Duke, then, was the person to be applied to, 
 and perhaps, after all, he would be more tractable 
 than the Jesuit. 
 
 Oriz, thinking this to be the best policy, pre- 
 pared to leave the convent to visit the Duke at the 
 Este Palace. Dispensing with his litter, he quitted 
 the convent on foot. He appeared quite indif- 
 ferent to the anxious glances of the porter and some 
 lay brothers, who watched him as he went, wonder- 
 ing at the unusual alacrity of his step. Onward 
 he walked without slackening his speed till he had 
 reached the grand entrance. One of the ushers 
 conducted him up the great stairs to the landing- 
 place, where he requested him to remain while he 
 should go to inform the Duke of his arrival. Pre- 
 sently the usher returned with a message, saymg 
 that at the present moment he was engaged on 
 affairs of great importance ; but that if the Chief 
 Inquisitor would wait, the Duke would soon be 
 disengaged, and would then have much pleasure 
 in granting him an audience. 
 
 Oriz was now ushered into a small ante-chamber 
 communicating with two corridors. Here he had 
 remained only a few minutes when a door opened, 
 and Pelletario entered. 
 
 For some moments not a word passed between 
 them, each waiting for the other to commence the 
 attack. Oriz was the first to break ground. 
 
 " Pardon me, my brother," he said, attempting to 
 assume a calm demeanour, although his voice trem- 
 bled with anger, " pardon me, but I have in some 
 slight way to complain of your conduct towards 
 me." 
 
 " My conduct to you, Reverend Brother?" said 
 Pelletario, with affected sorrow in his tone. "You 
 surprise me ! Pray tell me wherein I have offended 
 you, that I may offer all the redress in my power. 
 Be assured that my offence was unintentional." 
 
 " Unfortunately, I have more than one complaint 
 against you," said Oriz. " But I will especially men- 
 tion your having received the recantation ot her 
 
138 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Highness. You were well aware that I was specially 
 commissione::! by her royal nephew, tha King of 
 France, to bring her Highness back to the ti;ue 
 faith. It appears to me, therefore, that you, pardon 
 me if I say it, have interposed 1)etween me and 
 my penitent somewhat unwarrantably." 
 
 " I assure you, you are in error," said Pelletario. 
 " I did not in the most remote manner interpose 
 between you and her Highness." 
 
 " Did you not receive her recantation ?" 
 
 " I did," said Pelletario. " But that was not 
 through any intervention of mine. I was greatly 
 surprised when I received her request to visit her, 
 imagining that you, after all the consideration and 
 care you have shown for her welfare " — this the 
 Jesuit said with the slightest possible touch o^ 
 sarcasm — "would have been the person selected 
 by her. But excuse me If I leave you now, as I 
 have an affair of importance to attend to. If 
 you still have any doubts about my conduct, why 
 not clear them up by making inquiry regarding 
 them of her Highness ? I have just left her, 
 and I know she is alone. You would greatly oblige 
 me if yoLi would request an interview with her. 
 The usher waits in the corridor, and could imme- 
 diately take your message to her." So saying, he 
 bowed to Orlz and left the room. 
 
 Oriz, on the suggestion of the Jesuit, opened 
 the door, and, beckoning to the usher, requested 
 him to convey to the Duchess his wish for an in- 
 terview. The man without hesitation obeyed, 
 and in a few moments returned, saying that her 
 Highness objected to seeing him. Although the 
 man said this with great respect, Oriz understood it 
 to imply a direct refusal. He reejuested the usher 
 to return and say that he wished to speak to the 
 Duchess on a matter of great importance respecting 
 his Majesty the King of France. 
 
 The usher hesitated for a moment, and then 
 said — 
 
 " I would willingly, Reverend Father, but I dare 
 not. Her Highness ordered me so peremptorily 
 not to admit you, that I dare not take another 
 message back to her." 
 
 The anger of Oriz was now so great that he had 
 much difficulty in restraining it. Still, he had too 
 much pride to allow the usher to see his annoyance, 
 and he remained without further remark in the ante- 
 chamber till the Duke was ready to receive him. 
 
 On being ushered in, the Duke courteously ex- 
 pressed his regret that he had kept the Chief 
 Inquisitor waiting. He then inquired the object of 
 his visit, and asked if he could in any way afford 
 him assistance in carrying out the, good work in 
 which he v/as engaged. 
 
 Oriz, still burning with indignation at the refusal 
 of the Duchess to receive him, replied, that the 
 principal object of his visit was a most delicate 
 and painful one. It was "to request the Duke to 
 use his influence with the Duchess that the instruc- 
 tions received from her nephew, the King of France, 
 might be carried out more iully. 
 
 " You greatly surprise me by makmg such an 
 
 application," said the Duke. "I understood 
 from the Reverend Father Pelletario that the 
 Duchess had fully submitted to the advice con- 
 tained in your letter of instructions. Has she not 
 again become a member of our true Church ? Why, 
 she has attended mass with me, and has confessed, 
 and received absolution. It appears to me this 
 was all that was required by his Majesty, unless 
 you have some further instructions of which you 
 have not yet informed me, and which I shall reflect 
 well upon before I follow," continued the Duke 
 with considerable severity. " Although I entertain 
 the most profound gratitude for the interest his 
 Majesty takes in the soul of our dear Duchess, you 
 must know the temper of the Princes of the House 
 of Este sufficiently well to be aware of the hereditary 
 jealousy they have of the interference of foreign 
 Powers in their domestic or political affairs." 
 
 " I have received no further instructions than 
 those I have mentioned to your Highness. But 
 these, allow me to submit, have not been fully 
 carried out. It was especially requested that her 
 Highness should listen to my admonitions and 
 arguments, and she now positively refuses to admit 
 me to her presence." 
 
 " But, Dr. Oriz," said the Duke, " as the aim of 
 your instructions was to convert the Duchess, and 
 as that has already been accomplished, it appears 
 to me that your further assistance is not required. 
 Her Highness is at liberty to choose her own con- 
 fessor, and has done so, and I will maintain her 
 right to that privilege. There is, therefore, no 
 occasion for saying more on the subject. Is there 
 any other communication you wish to make to me ? " 
 
 "Pardon me, your Highness," said Oriz, "I 
 cannot admit that my instructions have been fully 
 carried out. I am justified in Insisting that I may 
 have the opportunity of convincing myself that the 
 views which have induced her Highness again to 
 join our Holy Church have been pure and orthodox, 
 in order that I may be able to report to his Majesty 
 fully on the subject when I return to France." 
 
 "I should be sorry, Reverend Father, that any 
 ill-feeling should arise between us," said the Duke. 
 " The better way to avoid such a result will be to 
 stop the present conversation. I will not hear one 
 word more on the subject. If there is any other 
 subject on which you wish to speak to me, I will 
 give a ready ear to anything you may say." 
 
 " Still, your Highness, the subject of the con-, 
 version of the Duchess should not be closed so 
 abruptly. If you will consider " 
 
 " Dr. Oriz," said the Duke sternly, " I have 
 given you my answer, and twice invited you to 
 speak upon any other subject you please. As you 
 appear to have no other, I consider our interview 
 to be ended. It would be uncourteous of me to 
 insist on your rctiruig, but I will do so myself;" 
 and the Duke, without utlenug another word, left 
 the room. 
 
 Oriz, as soon as he had sufficiently recovered 
 his sell-composnre, quitted the Palace, and returned 
 to the convent On the way he turned over in his 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 139 
 
 mind how he should best be able to prove 
 to the Duke that the treatment he had received 
 was not such as should be accorded to an eccle- 
 siastic holding so high an appointment as that of 
 Chief Inquisitor. He felt that to submit quietly to 
 such an affront would be to allow the superiority of 
 the temporal power of the Duke over the spiritual 
 power placed in his hands. It was his duty, he 
 argued, to prove to the Duke that the Church was 
 supreme ; and he resolved to do so effectually, and 
 not to stop till the proud Duchess would confess to 
 him. 
 
 ^ When he arrived at the convent, these thoughts 
 still occupied his mind. Without speaking to any 
 one, he hurriedly proceeded to the room set apart 
 for the business of the Holy Office, passing through 
 the one occupied by the secretary and his assistant 
 without so much as observing them. Closing the 
 door, he threw himself into a chair, and contracting 
 his brows, he again turned his thoughts to the Duke's 
 unfriendly reception, and the open affront he had 
 received from the Duchess. ' He remained seated 
 for some time as immovable as a statue. Suddenly 
 the rigidity of his form seemed to relax, and the 
 expression of deep thought on his countenance 
 changed to one of wonder and alarm. It had 
 occurred to him for the first time that during his 
 stay in the Palace he had forgotten the principal 
 object of his visit — the liberation of Teresa. Not 
 a thought of it had crossed his mind, although he 
 now remembered that the Duke had twice asked 
 him if there was any other subject upon which he 
 wished to speak. 
 
 The expression of wonder on Oriz's face gradually 
 gave way to one almost of terror. Recovering 
 himself, he rose, and opening the door of com- ! 
 munication with the secretary's room, he huiTiedly 
 advanced to the table. ! 
 
 "Draw out an order," he said, "under the 
 authority of the Inquisition, for the arrest of 
 Teresa Rosetti, daughter of the Judge Biagio 
 Rosetti." 
 
 The secretary, without delay, proceeded to draw 
 out the order. So great was Oriz's haste, that 
 even before the secretary had finished, he had taken 
 a pen from the table and dipped it in the ink, 
 ready to affix his signature to the warrant. Hurriedly 
 reading it, and finding it correct, he prepared to sign 
 it. To his astonishment he found that the pen 
 which he had already dipped in the ink-horn was 
 no longer in his hand. Concealing his annoyance 
 at the somewhat ridiculous position he was in, he 
 looked round for the pen, and saw it lying on the 
 floor beside him. He stooped to take it up ; but 
 when he stood up he saw the pen still on the floor, 
 and on making a second attempt found he was 
 unable to grasp it. He rose again almost to an 
 erect position, and, casting a look of terror on the 
 secretary, was about to make another attempt to 
 pick it up, when he fell senseless on the floor. 
 
 On recovering his consciousness, he found himself 
 in his cell, with Era Theodore and Dr. Sigismondi 
 standing by his bed. He made an effort to speak 
 
 to them, but could not. He was labouring under 
 an attack of paralysis of the right side. He re- 
 mained in bed for some time, and Avas not allowed 
 to interfere in any way with the affairs of the Holy 
 Office. After some weeks he recovered sufficiently 
 to be removed to a room in the convent. His 
 bodily health, however, did not improve, and his 
 mental powers had been greatly shaken. The 
 terrible unremembered dream occurred to him 
 nightly, rendering his bed an object of dread to 
 him, and he also suffered from another mysterious 
 punishment. He had conceived the idea that the 
 face of a man, widi an expression of terrible anger 
 on it, was continually watching him. But the most 
 singular part of this hallucination was, that although 
 he knew they were the features of a man, the iace 
 itself he could not recognise. The expression of 
 angei on it appeared terribly distinct, and whichever 
 way he turned this awful face seemed bent upon him. 
 At last he thought that the dream which haunted 
 him by day was in some way connected with the 
 unremembered one which haunted him by night ; 
 and his mind, under this double infliction, gradually 
 sank, till at length it reached a state of utter im- 
 becility and helplessness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. — GOOD NEWS FOR TERESA. 
 
 Three days after the liberation of Teresa, the 
 Duchess, with her daughters and her Court, repaired 
 to the Palace of Belriguardo, where she continued 
 to reside till the death of her husband Duke Ercole. 
 She rarely afterwards visited the city, partly frOm 
 the painful reminiscences connected with it, and 
 partly from the dread she had of being seen by 
 those who had formerly known her as a Protest- 
 ant. But it must not be imagihed that Renee's 
 life at Belriguardo was one of great seclusion or 
 hardship. She could scarcely have chosen a more 
 delightful residence. Erected about a century before 
 by the Marchese Nicolo, it had been enlarged and 
 embellished by Duke Borso, and afterwards by 
 Ercole I., the grandfather of Rene'e's husband. 
 At the death of Ercole I. it became the favourite 
 residence of his daughter-in-law, Lucrezia Borgia, 
 then married to Duke Alfonso. Lucrezia passed 
 a considerable portion of the nineteen years ot 
 her married hfe in it, and fitted it up with such 
 exquisite taste that it was considered the most beau- 
 tiful country palace in Italy. Ercole II., the hus- 
 band of Rende, had also laid out vast sums of money 
 on it. Count Annibale Romeo, who resided there 
 for some time, says it was so vast that there were as 
 many chambers iii it as there were days in the year, 
 and the poet Guarini wrote that B Jriguardo Palace 
 had no equal in the world.* 
 
 From her first arrival in Italy, Belriguardo had 
 
 » This magnificent palace has since been destroyed. AH that now 
 remains of it are a few poor rooms used as a farm-house. Its demo- 
 lition began about the commencement of the eighteenth century. 
 Duke Ercole, at his death, bequeathed it, with the immense domains 
 surrounding it, to Uenee, on the condition, oj her remammg a gaud 
 Catholic. Renfe, however, immediately after her husband s death, 
 declared herself a Protestant, and, rclinciuishing her splendid legacy, 
 returned to Franre, where she remained till her death, a stauncli 
 defender of the persecuted Huguenots. 
 
140 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA, 
 
 always been a favourite place of sojourn with the 
 Duchess Ren^e, but never had it appeared more 
 attractive than when she reached it after her recanta- 
 tion. Although there were in her cortege several 
 individuals, such as the Jesuit Pelletario and Sister 
 Laura the nun, whose pres.nce she would readily 
 have dispensed with, the ride to the Palace had a 
 soothing effect on her mind after all the anxieties 
 and persecutions she had lately endured. 
 
 In the carretta with the Duchess were the two 
 Princesses and Teresa. In another which followed 
 were Madonna Bonifacio, the nun, and two of 
 the ladies of the suite. Pelletario and two 
 other ecclesiastics on mules, and some gentle- 
 men in waiting on horseback, followed. Although 
 hardly coming within the range of his pries^y 
 duties, Pelletario seemed to have taken upon him- 
 self the arrangement of the whole proceedings. 
 He did not openly interfere, but by his suggestions, 
 ■whispered occasionally into the ear of the chief of 
 the escort and the major-domo, he seemed to direct 
 the whole. 
 
 After their arrival at the Palace, Pelletario still 
 kept a watchful eye on all that took place. His 
 position as confessor to the Duchess gave him great 
 weight in the establishment, and his most trifling 
 suggestion was acted on with implicit obedience. 
 Teresa, before her departure from Ferrara, had re- 
 sumed her duties as chief lady in waiting on her 
 Highness. Although she was a Protestant, and as 
 such proscribed by law, Pelletario did not raise the 
 slightest objection, which in his official capacity as 
 confessor to the Duchess he might have done. 
 But he impressed on Madonna Bonifacio and 
 Sister Laura the necessity of being always present 
 with the Princesses when they were in tiie society 
 of Teresa. When the Duchess required the pre- 
 sence of the Princesses, the attendants were absolved 
 from the necessity of being present, should her 
 Highness not wish them to be in the room. 
 
 Teresa was now almost the constant companion 
 of the Duchess. For some days after their arrival 
 at Belriguardo, Renife hardly ever quitted the walls 
 of the Palace. She seemed to have an aversion to 
 being seen by the officials who habitually resided 
 there.. Many of them had been Protestants, but 
 she feared that they had followed her example and 
 become members of the Church of Rome. She 
 especially dreaded to meet these, feeling that she 
 had done them an irreparable injustice. She knew 
 that two of the superior female domestics had re- 
 mained true to their faith. They were of French- 
 Swiss origin, but had long resided in Italy. Being 
 well known to be favourites of Renee, they had 
 been allowed to remain Protestants. On the first 
 favourable opportunity, however, they were to quit 
 the Duchy, on the understanding that should they 
 again be seen on Ferrarese territory they would be 
 arrested and tried as heretics. 
 
 Singularly enough Renee seemed to have less 
 compunction in meeting these two women than 
 those who had become perverts to the Church of 
 Rome. She appeared to feel that she had done 
 
 them no personal injustice. Much as she realized 
 the degraded position she occupied in their eyes, 
 it was nothing in comparison with the pain she 
 felt in seeing tiiose whom she had indirectly misled. 
 
 A few days after her arrival Renee summoned 
 up more courage, and, accompanied by Teresa, 
 strolled about the magnificent park and gardens, 
 occasionally speaking to the servants, gardeners, 
 or gamekeepers she met. These at first seemed to 
 regard her with looks of great curiosity and sor- 
 row. Gradually, however, they became more ac- 
 customed to her presence, till at last there was no 
 more surprise in their manner when meeting her 
 than there had been when she was a Protestant. 
 
 Pelletario, though rarely seen by the Duchess, 
 kept a keen eye on her movements. To do him 
 justice, however, he treated her with great respect, 
 and the directions he gave were marked by de- 
 licacy and tact. Knowing well that it would be 
 painful to Rende to receive reports of the persecu- 
 tions which were being carried on against the Pro- 
 testants, he took every means of preventing these 
 from reaching her. He impressed on the Princesses, 
 as well as on Madonna Bonifacio and Sister Laura, 
 the necessity of abstaining from any remarks on 
 what was taking place in Ferrara. He also ad- 
 vised them not to touch on religious subjects unless 
 these were first spoken of by her Highness. Even 
 then they were not to use one word or sentence 
 which could in any way remind her of her submis- 
 sion to the Church of Rome ; for Pelletario knew 
 that it had not been dictated by any conscientious 
 conviction. When mass was celebrated in the 
 chapel of the Palace, Rende was rarely present. 
 Pelletario, however, made no remarks on her ab- 
 sence, and if any one spoke of it in his presence he 
 merely regretted the indisposition which had pre- 
 vented her Highness from being present. 
 
 Anxious as Pelletario was for the advancement 
 of the interests of the Church of Rome, and ready 
 as he was to receive any convert, he made no 
 attempt to interfere with the religious belief of 
 Teresa. This did not arise from any indifference 
 on his part. Probably it had its origin in a sort 
 of tacit respect he had for the courage which the 
 beautiful and amiable young girl had shown in 
 maintaining her faith, and for her devotion to her 
 father. When he met her, either alone or in com- 
 pany, there was a certain good-tempered humour 
 about him, with which Teresa hardly knew whether 
 to be pleased or angry. In spite of the courteous 
 and pleasing manners of the Jesuit, she felt that 
 she was a mere child in his hands, and that he 
 knew every thought that passed through her mind. 
 He did not allow Madonna Bonifacio or Sister 
 Laura the nun to speak to Teresa on religious sub- 
 jects. He assured them that it was much better to 
 lead her gradually to the true faith by their example, 
 and then, when they had so far succeeded, there 
 would be little difficulty in completing her conver- 
 sion. 
 
 For more than a month Teresa did not feel any 
 great anxiety about her father. He had promised 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 141 
 
 to write to her as soon as he should be permanently 
 settled in Zurich. In those days, however, men 
 travelled slowly, and letters took a considerable 
 time to come from Zurich to Ferrara. In the reign 
 of the former Duke, Alfonso, something like an 
 embryo post-office, as well as a government posting 
 establishment, had been formed. But this extended 
 no farther than the extremity of the Duchy of Fer- 
 rara. In the Duchy of Mantua, and in Lombardy 
 as far as Co'mo, means of transport were still more 
 deficient. At Como there was not even the faintest 
 semblance of any postal arrangement. The trans- 
 mission of letters and messages up the lake and 
 across the Splugen mountain, and over the long 
 distance between it and Zurich, had to be confided 
 either to boatmen or carriers, who transferred them 
 to one another, or else they had to be sent the 
 whole distance by private messenger. 
 
 With the limited resources at her father's com- 
 mand, Teresa knew that it would be out of his 
 power to employ a special messenger. The pro- 
 gress of a letter from him would therefore be tardy 
 indeed. A month passed, and another followed, 
 and still no communication came from Zurich. 
 Teresa now began to conjure up all imaginable 
 reasons lor the delay. At last she was informed 
 that a man, in the dress of a ferryman, had arrived 
 at the Palace and wished to see her. He would 
 not give his name, nor would he say what his mes- 
 sage was, but urged the necessity of his seeing her 
 with so much earnestness, that in spite of his 
 poverty-stricken appearance, the servant thought it 
 his duty to inform Teresa of his wish. 
 
 Remembering that Giacomo, who had escorted 
 her father to Zurich, was a ferryman, Teresa imme- 
 diately ordered him to be admitted. To her great 
 surprise, however, Gerolamo entered the room. He 
 told her that he was the bearer of a letter to her 
 which had been brought from Zurich by his friend 
 Giacomo the ferryman. Giacomo would have 
 presented it himself, but he feared that he might 
 be watched if he came to the Palace. He had no 
 alarm on his own account, but as he was known 
 to be a Protestant, he feared that Teresa might be 
 suspected, should it be discovered that he had a 
 commission to see her. 
 
 Teresa gave but little attention to Gerolamo's 
 words. Telling him to remain where he was till 
 her return, she hurried off to her own chamber, 
 that she might read without interruption the letter 
 which her father had sent to her. Alter cutting 
 the thread which bound it, she was so much 
 agitated that it was some minutes before she could 
 sufficiently collect herself to read the contents ; 
 and when she did so, her haste was so great that 
 th^ rather glanced over detached sentences than 
 read it through. 
 
 Finding from what she had read that the journey 
 had been accomplished satisfactorily, and that her 
 father's reception in Zurich had been fiiendly, 
 the now read tJie letter caremlly. Her father 
 gave a detailed account of his journey, with the 
 intent of tracing the route which she should take 
 
 when she had the opportunity of joining him. He 
 told her that they had reached Mantua in a boat 
 which Giacomo had engaged for them. From thence 
 they went on foot to Verona ; then, passing by the 
 Lake of Como, they had crossed the mountains into 
 Switzerland. On his arrival in Zurich, he had the 
 great happiness of meeting his reverend friend the 
 Pastor Ochino, who had quitted Italy in safety, after 
 a successful sojourn in Venice, where he had re- 
 ceived considerable contributions for his mission. 
 Rosetti further stated that he had resolved to esta- 
 blish himself as an advocate in Zurich. When 
 young he had been several years in Germany, and 
 was well acquainted with the language, so that 
 there would be no difficulty on that account. He 
 was happy to say that his reputation as a lawyer 
 stood as high in Zurich as it had done in Ferrara, 
 and that if he had the blessing of Heaven on his 
 endeavours, he hoped in a short time to be able 
 to send her the funds necessary for her journey. To 
 her discretion, and to the kindness of the Duchess, 
 he left the task of making such arrangements as 
 might be needful. 
 
 To Giacomo he expressed great gratitude for the 
 assistance which he had received from him. He 
 concluded his letter by hoping that he should soon 
 again have the pleasure of embracing his dear child, 
 who had shown so much attachment to him, and 
 who had had the courage to maintain the Protestant 
 faith in spite of all the dangers which threatened her. 
 
 Teresa, overjoyed with her letter, ran with it into 
 the apartments of the Duchess. Fortunately she 
 found her alone, and Renee, seeing the excited and 
 joyous expression on the young girl's countenance, 
 as well as the letter in her hand, guessed all. 
 
 f Teresa, my child, I congratulate you," she said, 
 " for I easily read in your eyes that you have re- 
 ceived pleasing intelligence. May I ask what it is ?" 
 
 Teresa attempted to give a hurried outline of 
 the contents of the letter, in which, from her impa- 
 tience and excitement, she signally failed. Ren& 
 then said to her, smiling — 
 
 " If there are no secrets in your letter, I think 
 your better plan would be to read it to me, for, 
 candidly, as far as you have gone I feel some diffi- 
 culty in understanding you." 
 
 Teresa immediately began to read the letter, 
 stopping on more than one occasion to make com- 
 ments and to hear remarks on the different points 
 in it. All went on well till they came to the con- 
 cluding paragraph, in which Rosetti commended 
 his daughter for her courage in maintaining the 
 true faith. 
 
 In her haste, Teresa had not thought of the dan- 
 gerous ground on which she was treading, nor did 
 she remember it till it was too late. There was a 
 dead silence now for some moments. It was broken 
 by Renee saying — 
 
 " Your father has not heard of my fall, I see, 
 Teresa. I pray God it may not reach his ears ! 
 May he never know how degraded I am, and what 
 an object of abhoiTcnce I am to myself and to 
 every member of the faith which I have deserted !" 
 
142 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 And Rende, unable to restrain herself, burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Teresa endeavoured to console her, and said 
 that she was certain her Highness was still at 
 heart a Protestant. 
 
 "My child," said the Duchess, somewhat re- 
 proachfully, " can you doubt it ? At this moment 
 I feel as great a love for the Reformed creed, 
 and as strong a detestation of the idolatries and 
 abominations of Rome, as when Calvin converted 
 
 me to the true faith. Before you reach Zurich, 
 perhaps your father will have heard of my un- 
 worthy conduct. Spealc of me with as much pity 
 as you can to him, and to Pastor Ochino and his 
 flock, for I merit it. I know, Teresa, that you 
 think I might have followed your example and 
 maintained my faith. But you are not a mother. - 
 When you are, probably you may find excuses for 
 my behaviour which at present you cannot under- 
 stand. But let us change the subject," she con- 
 
 Pagts 139. 
 
 tinned, making a great effort to control herself. 
 "We must now consider what steps can be taken 
 for your journey to Zurich. Did tlie man who 
 accompanied your father bring you the letter ?" 
 
 " No," said Teresa. " He entrusted it to a poor 
 man, whose blind mother, a Protestant, for several 
 days sheltered Madonna Ponte and myself in her 
 humble dwelling near the banks of the river oppo- 
 site the Boschetto. The'kindness shown to us by 
 the mother, and the fidelity of her son in maintain- 
 
 ing our secret, and in assisting us in every way, are 
 still fresh in my memory, and I much wish that J 
 could do something to serve him." 
 
 " What is he?" asked Renee. 
 
 " He was formerly a soldier," said Teresa, " but 
 he is now as poor as it is possible for a man to be. 
 He has had a good education, for formerly they 
 were in a very respectable position." 
 
 " His mother, you say, is a Protestant , I suppose ■ 
 the son is one also." 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 143 
 
 Teresa, with some embarrassment, said that he 
 was not. She felt convinced that he was still a Pro- 
 testant at heart, although he had nominally become 
 a convert to the Church of Rome to save his 
 mother. 
 
 " I can sympathize with him then," said the 
 Duchess after a moment's silence. " Heaven knows 
 I have no right to sit in judgment upon him. 
 Where is he?" 
 
 " He is in the ante-room below, awaiting my 
 return," said Teresa. 
 
 " I will see him myself. Bring him here." 
 
 Teresa left the rooiUj and returned in a few 
 minutes with Gerolamo, who, in spite of his 
 poverty-stricken appearance, seemed by no means 
 abashed in the presence of her Highness. 
 
 " This lady," said Ren^e to him, " tells me that 
 you and your mother were kind to her and to 
 another lady of my suite during the time they found 
 it necessary to remain in concealment ; tell me 
 what I can do to serve you and your -mother, and 
 I will do it if it be in my power." 
 
 " Alas, your Highness ! my mother died last 
 week ; and, relieved from her misery on earth, I 
 am persuaded she is now an angel in heaven." 
 
 "Are you a Catholic and speak thus?" said 
 Renee. 
 
 Gerolamo remained silent, although it was not 
 difficult to perceive his anxiety to speak. Ob- 
 serving this, Rende said— - 
 
 " Do not be afraid. What you say shall not be 
 turned to your hurt, believe me." 
 
 " If I may speak the truth," said Gerolamo, " I 
 was a Catholic while my poor mother lived, that I 
 might save her from persecution. But now that 
 she is gone it would take little to make me de- 
 clare myself a Protestant." 
 
 Teresa was much surprised at hearing of thfe death 
 of the blind widow. A moment's consideration, how- 
 ever, convinced her that the old woman's lot was 
 rather to be envied than deplored. 
 
 " And what is your present occupation ?" asked 
 Reude. 
 
 " I have no occupation, your Highness, though I 
 earnestly desire it. The few soldi I have earned in 
 bringing this letter to Belriguardo I look upon as 
 sent from God to me." 
 
 " You were formerly a soldier, were you not ?" 
 said Rende. 
 
 " I was," replied Gerolamo, "but now that there is 
 no war, they can obtain younger and better men." 
 
 After a moment's silence Rende said — 
 ' " This young lady is Ukely to proceed to Zurich 
 to join her father : would you like to be one of 
 her escort ?" 
 
 The habitual phlegm of Gerolamo gave way 
 at this otier. Clasping his hands, he said — 
 
 " I can imagine no better fortune, your Highness. 
 Willingly would I reside in Zurich, where I could 
 openly declare myself to be what I really am in 
 heart — a. Protestant." 
 
 "Teresa, my child," said the Duchess, " take this 
 man to the major-domo. Say that he is to be 
 
 accommodated in the Palace, that he is to be bettei 
 clothed, and treated as one of the domestics." 
 
 Nothing more was said that day relative to 
 Teresa's departure for Zurich. Early on the 
 morrow, however, to her intense surprise, Rene'e 
 entered the room before Teresa had risen from her 
 bed. Seating herself by the bedside, Renee sar.l 
 to her — 
 
 " I dare say you are somewhat surprised at my 
 visit, Teresa. I have come to talk with you about 
 the preparations that are required for your journey. 
 The sooner you leave this the better for your father's 
 happiness and my peace of mind. Every hour^ 
 you remaiUj my child, will increase the pain I 
 sh^ll feel at parting with you. Better one sharp 
 pang than linger on for a time in pain. I did not 
 close my eyes the whole of last night, so great was 
 my sorrow. I have now resolved that you shall 
 leave to join your father as soon as everything is 
 ready for your journey." 
 
 " I trust your Highness will not forget me when 
 I am gone," said Teresa imploringly. 
 
 " Forget you, my child !" said Rende, " never ! 
 My own daughters, much as I love them, are scarcely 
 dearer to me than you are. But all things con- 
 sidered, it is better that we should part — better for 
 you, better for your father, better for myself. Still 
 we may be near in spirit, although the Alps divide 
 us. Write to me by every opportunity, and I 
 promise you that your letters shall not remain un- 
 answered; But now let us speak of your journey. 
 I expect his Highness from Ferrara to-day, and I 
 have no doubt he will order that every protection 
 be afforded to you while you are in his dominions. 
 As you will doubtless pass through Mantua, I will 
 ask him to give you a letter to his relative the 
 Duke, who I am sure will secure you from annoy- 
 ance while in his territory, as well as assist you to 
 proceed further. I have selected for you two 
 female companions on whom you may rely — my two 
 Swiss servants, Carlotta and Susan. Being Pro- 
 testants, they have received an order to quit the 
 Duchy on the first opportunity, and one has now 
 presented itself. They are natives of Lucerne ; 
 but I will supply you with money for their journey 
 onwards from Zurich. And now for your male escort. 
 Do you know any one on whom you can rely?" 
 
 Teresa, after a moment's consideration, suggested 
 that she knew of no one better than Gerolamo. 
 
 " Let us fix on him then," said Rende. " He 
 has already been a soldier, and you say he has 
 received a good education. In courage and ability 
 he will no doubt be quite equal to the task. I am 
 sure his Highness will, at my request, grant him 
 permission to wear the uniform of his guard ; and 
 that will not only assure him protection while in 
 the Duchy, but after quitting it. And now, my 
 child," continued Ren^e, " I will leave you. Do 
 not speak yet of your departure to the Princesses. 
 When they hear of it the news will cause them 
 sorrow enough." 
 
 Then, kissing Teresa affectionately, the Duchess 
 left the room. 
 
144 
 
 THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. — CONCLUSION. 
 
 The Duke, as Renee had anticipated, arrived in 
 the course of the day from Ferrara. He made no 
 objection either to Teresa's projected departure, or 
 to Gerolamo's wearing the uniform of his guard. 
 In all other respects he seemed indifferent to 
 the subject. His mind was preoccupied with 
 affairs in Ferrara, where, at the request of the 
 Inquisitors, he had lately promulgated SLXiOthergri^fa, 
 or edict, containing an elaborate scale of punish- 
 ments for heretics, or, as they now termed them, 
 blasphemers of the Virgin Mary and the saints. 
 Renee had informed him that she wished no notice 
 to be taken of Teresa's contemplated departure till 
 all was in readiness. The Duke promised not tp 
 speak of it ; and when he met Teresa in the after- 
 noon, he behaved to her as if he had not heard that 
 in a few days she would quit the Palace never to 
 return. 
 
 , About a week after the receipt of her father's 
 letter everything was in readiness for Teresa's de- 
 parture. Only the day before she was to leave 
 were the Princesses informed of it. They were 
 sorrowful indeed at the thought of losing their 
 young friend. Sister Laura meekly suggested that 
 it would be advisable for her to remain some time 
 longer, so that she might be converted. But 
 Madonna Bonifacio did not concur with the nun in 
 this suggestion. Having been a parent herself, 
 she could easily imagine the sorrow and anxiety 
 which the Judge Biagio Rosetti, heretic as he was, 
 would feel at being separated from his daughter. 
 
 In the afternoon Gerolamo presented himself to 
 receive instructions for the journey from Teresa. 
 At first sight she had some difficulty in recognising 
 him, so much was he altered in appearance. Instead 
 of the shabby civilian dress he had then worn, he 
 was attired in the magnificent uniform, one side 
 red, the other white, of the Duke's guard. With 
 the uniform and sword, he seemed to have at the 
 same time again adopted the bearing of a soldier. 
 Instead of his usual slovenly appearance, he now 
 stood erect, and the furtive expression of his eye 
 had changed into a frank soldier-like ga.ye, 
 
 Teresa informed him that they were to proceed by 
 the shortest route to Mantua, thence by Verona 
 and Milan to Como, and then across the mountains 
 to Switzerland. She added that a carretta would 
 be prepared for her and the servants who were to 
 accompany her, and that he would have a horse 
 provided for him, while mules would follow with 
 the baggage. Gerolamo promised that all would 
 be ready at the appointed time, and Teresa passed 
 a sorrowful evening with the Duchess and the 
 Princesses. 
 
 Early next morning the arrangements for Teresa's 
 departure were completed. The carretta came to 
 the principal door of the Palace ; Gerolamo, the 
 two servants, and the muleteers being already 
 waiting below. The Duchess and the Princesses, 
 with Madonna Bonifacio and Sister Laura, accom- 
 panied Teresa to the Palace door to bid her fare- 
 
 well. With the exception of the Jesuit, who had 
 also joined them, there was not a dry eye there. 
 The Duchess and her daughters embraced her ten- 
 derly ; Madonna Bonifacio was scarcely less demon- 
 strative; while even Sister Laura seemed to forget for 
 the moment that the girl was a heretic, and kissed 
 her affectionately as she bade her good-bye. The 
 serious expression which had been on the face of 
 Pelletario changed to a bland smile as with great 
 courtesy he wished her a pleasant journey. The 
 smile, however, vanished the moment after, and 
 he resumed his former seriousness. He watched 
 the young girl attentively as she entered the carretta, 
 and as it drove off, for the first and only time he 
 showed interest in the proceeding. Raising his 
 hand, he made the sign of benediction, then turned 
 away and sought his own apartment. It would be 
 difficult to analyze with certainty the Jesuit's feeling. 
 Was it that in spite of himself, or rather in spite of 
 the principles of his order, he wished his blessing 
 to follow the- amiable heretic girl on her way to her 
 father? 
 
 We will not accompany Teresa on the road to 
 Zurich. The journey was accomplished without 
 danger or inconvenience of any kind. A fortnight 
 after Teresa had quitted Belriguardo, her father, 
 who was now established as an advocate in Zurich, 
 had once more the happiness of clasping his beloved 
 daughter to his heart. 
 
 Notwithstanding the incapacity of Oriz to direct 
 any longer the operations of the Holy Office, it 
 prosecuted its labours with undiminished vigour. 
 This work was greatly aided by the recantation of 
 Renee, modified though it was. Not only in the 
 Duchy of Ferrara, but throughout the whole of the 
 north of Italy, she had hitherto been considered the 
 champion and protectress of the Reformers. No 
 longer encouraged by her patronage, they soon be- 
 came disorganized and demoralized. They had no 
 leader ; their worship, whether public or private, was 
 proclaimed penal, and those who were detected were 
 punished with great severity. For some time they 
 attempted to continue the practice of family worship, 
 but in this they were soon discovered. In the houses 
 of the wealthy, spies were frequently Ibund among 
 the members of the family itself. Generally these 
 were amongst the younger members, whose faith 
 had been tampered with. They were induced to 
 believe that to bring under the notice of the In- 
 quisitors the heretical opinions of the others was 
 not only a duty acceptable to God, but a means of 
 saving the souls of those who were dear to them. 
 
 It was no unusual thing for a member of a 
 Protestant family who had joined the Church of 
 Rome to receive permission to conceal his recan- 
 tation for a time. This was given that he might 
 join in family worship, and be able to give more 
 certain information of the spread of the Reformed 
 doctrines among his relatives and their friends. 
 
 With the poor and uneducated far less trouble 
 was taken. There were several causes for this, 
 the principal being that they were more easily de- 
 tected on account of their not attending any place 
 
THE STRUGGLE IN FERRARA. 
 
 Hb 
 
 of worship ; while, as the ignorant were generally 
 more bigoted than the educated, it was easier to 
 obtain information respecting them. The Inquisi- 
 tors rightly judged that, as the ignorant classes were 
 greatly influenced by example, the populace would 
 not long hold out if Protestantism could be extir- 
 pated among those who were wealthy and educated. 
 It is only just to admit that in one respect the 
 Inquisition in Italy was carried on with less of 
 cruelty than it was in Spain. In Italy the punish- 
 ments were often fearfully severe. They were in- 
 flicted, however, rather as a warning to heretics of 
 what they might suffer should they hesitate to join 
 the Church of Rome than from vindictive feelings. 
 Capital punishments were also less frequent, though 
 the torture, floggings, and confiscations were carried 
 out with great severity. One feature of the In- 
 quisition in Ferrara deserves to be noticed. The 
 severity of the punishment was regulated according 
 to the education of the culprit and the position he 
 
 held in society. The most terrible punishments 
 were those inflicted on persons who had relapsed 
 into Protestantism after joining the Church of Rome. 
 Their punishment was invariably the amputation of 
 the tongue, accompanied by scourgings, the severity 
 of which were in proportion to their education. 
 
 Rewards were also given to all who would bring 
 heretical books to the Inquisitors. These were 
 immediately burnt, and punishment of death was 
 threatened to all who imported fresh copies into the 
 Duchy. All parents were obliged, under penalty of 
 their goods being confiscated, to send their children 
 to Roman -Catholic schools, so that the rising gene- 
 ration might be educated to abhor Protestantism. 
 
 Under such a system of oppression it would have 
 been almost miraculous if Protestantism had held 
 its ground. It gradually dwindled away, and when, 
 at the death of the Duke's son, the Duchy reverted 
 to the States of the Church, not a Protestant family 
 remained in Ferrara. 
 
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