CHAPTER VI. THE AMOROUS DUKE
From a window of the Palace of Babbiano the Lord of Aquila watched theamazing bustle in the courtyard below, and at his side stood Fanfulladegli Arcipreti, whom he had summoned from Perugia with assurances that,Masuccio being dead, no peril now menaced him.
It was a week after that interview at which Gian Maria had made knownhis intentions to his cousin, and his Highness was now upon the pointof setting out for Urbino, to perform the comedy of wooing the LadyValentina. This was the explanation of that scurrying of servitors andpages, that parading of men-at-arms, and that stamping of horses andmules in the quadrangle below. Francesco watched the scene with a smileof some bitterness, his companion with one of supreme satisfaction.
"Praised be Heaven for having brought his Highness at last to a sense ofhis duty," remarked the courtier.
"It has often happened to me," said Francesco, disregarding hiscompanion's words, "to malign the Fates for having brought me into theworld a count. But in the future I shall give them thanks, for I see howmuch worse it might have been--I might have been born a prince, witha duchy to rule over. I might have been as that poor man, my cousin, acreature whose life is all pomp and no real dignity, all merry-makingand no real mirth--loveless, isolated and vain."
"But," cried the amazed Fanfulla, "assuredly there are compensations?"
"You see that bustle. You know what it portends. What compensation canthere be for that?"
"It is a question you should be the last to ask, my lord. You have seenthe niece of Guidobaldo, and having seen her, can you still ask whatcompensation does this marriage offer Gian Maria?"
"Do you, then, not understand?" returned Aquila, with a wan smile. "Doyou not see the tragedy of it? Is it nothing that two States, havingfound that this marriage would be mutually advantageous, have determinedthat it shall take place? That meanwhile the chief actors--thevictims, I might almost call them--have no opportunity of selecting forthemselves. Gian Maria goes about it resignedly. He will tell you thathe has always known that some day he must wed and do his best to begeta son. He held out long enough against this alliance, but now thatnecessity is driving him at last, he goes about it much as he would goabout any other State affair--a coronation, a banquet, or a ball. Canyou wonder now that I would not accept the throne of Babbiano whenit was offered me? I tell you, Fanfulla, that were I at present in mycousin's shoes, I would cast crown and purple at whomsoever had a fancyfor them ere they crushed the life out of me and left me a poor puppet.Sooner than endure that hollow mockery of a life I would become apeasant or a vassal; I would delve the earth and lead a humble life, butlead it in my own way, and thank God for the freedom of it; choose myown comrades; live as I list, where I list; love as I list, where Ilist, and die when God pleases with the knowledge that my life had notbeen altogether barren. And that poor girl, Fanfulla! Think of her. Sheis to be joined in loveless union to such a gross, unfeeling clod asGian Maria. Have you no pity for her?"
Fanfulla sighed, his brow clouded.
"I am not so dull but that I can see why you should reason thus to-day,"said he. "These thoughts have come to you since you have seen her."
Franceseo sighed deeply.
"Who knows?" he made answer wistfully. "In the few moments that wetalked together, in the little time that I beheld her, it may be thatshe dealt me a wound far deeper than the one to which she so mercifullysought to minister."
Now for all that in what the Lord of Aquila said touching the projectedunion there was a deal of justice, yet when he asserted that the chiefactors were to have no opportunity of selecting for themselves, he saidtoo much. That opportunity they were to have. It occurred three dayslater at Urbino, when the Duke and Valentina were brought togetherat the banquet of welcome given by Guidobaldo to his intendednephew-in-law. The sight of her resplendent beauty came as a joyfulshock to Gian Maria, and filled him with as much impatience to possessher as did his own gross ugliness render him offensive in her eyes.Averse had she been to this wedding from the moment that it had beenbroached to her. The sight of Gian Maria completed her loathing of thepart assigned her, and in her heart she registered a vow that soonerthan become the Duchess of Babbiano, she would return to her Convent ofSanta Sofia and take the veil.
Gian Maria sat beside her at the banquet, and in the intervals ofeating--which absorbed him mightily--he whispered compliments at whichshe shuddered and turned pale. The more strenuously did he strive toplease, in his gross and clumsy fashion, the more did he succeedin repelling and disgusting her, until, in the end, with all hisfatuousness, he came to deem her oddly cold. Of this, anon, he madecomplaint to that magnificent prince, her uncle. But Guidobaldo scoffedat his qualms.
"Do you account my niece a peasant girl?" he asked. "Would you have hersmirk and squirm at every piece of flattery you utter? So that she wedsyour Highness what shall the rest signify?"
"I would she loved me a little," complained Gian Maria foolishly.
Guidobaldo looked him over with an eye that smiled inscrutably, and itmay have crossed his mind that this coarse, white-faced Duke was tooambitious.
"I doubt not that she will," he answered, in tones as inscrutable ashis glance. "So that you woo with grace and ardour, what woman couldwithstand your Highness? Be not put off by such modesty as becomes amaid."
Those words of Guidobaldo's breathed new courage into him. Nor everafter could he think that her coldness was other than a cloak, a sort ofmaidenly garment behind which modesty bade her conceal the inclinationsof her heart. Reasoning thus, and having in support of it his wondrousfatuity, it so befell that the more she shunned and avoided him, themore did he gather conviction of the intensity of her affection; themore loathing she betrayed, the more proof did it afford him of theconsuming quality of her passion. In the end, he went even so far as toapplaud and esteem in her this very maidenly conduct.
There were hunting-parties, hawking-parties, water-parties, banquets,comedies, balls, and revels of every description, and for a week allwent well at Urbino. Then, as suddenly as if a cannon had been firedupon the Palace, the festivities were interrupted. The news that anenvoy of Caesar Borgia's was at Babbiano with a message from his mastercame like a cold douche upon Gian Maria. It was borne to him in a letterfrom Fabrizio da Lodi, imploring his immediate return to treat with thisplenipotentiary of Valentino's.
No longer did he disregard the peril that threatened him from theall-conquering Borgia, no longer deem exaggerated by his advisers thecause for fear. This sudden presence of Valentino's messenger, coming,too, at a time when it would almost seem as if the impending unionwith Urbino had spurred the Borgia to act before the alliance wasestablished, filled him with apprehension.
In one of the princely chambers that had been set aside for his useduring his visit to Urbino he discussed the tragic news with the twonobles who had accompanied him--Alvaro de Alvari and Gismondo Santi--andboth of them, whilst urging him to take the advice of Lodi and return atonce, urged him, too, to establish his betrothal ere he left.
"Bring the matter to an issue at once, your Highness," said Santi,"and thus you will go back to Babbiano well-armed to meet the DucaValentino's messenger."
Readily accepting this advice, Gian Maria went in quest of Guidobaldo,and laid before him his proposals, together with the news whichhad arrived and which was the cause of the haste he now manifested.Guidobaldo listened gravely. In its way the news affected him as well,for he feared the might of Caesar Borgia as much as any man in Italy,and he was, by virtue of it, the readier to hasten forward an alliancewhich should bring another of the neighbouring states into the powerfulcoalition he was forming.
"It shall be as you wish," answered him the gracious Lord of Urbino,"and the betrothal shall be proclaimed to-day, so that you can bear newsof it to Valentino's messenger. When you have heard this envoy, deliverhim an answer of such defiance or such caution as you please. Thenreturn in ten days' time to Urbino, and all shall be ready for thenuptials. But, first of all, go you and
tell Monna Valentina."
Confident of success, Gian Maria obeyed his host, and went in quest ofthe lady. He gained her ante-chamber, and thence he despatched an idlingpage to request of her the honour of an audience.
As the youth passed through the door that led to the room beyond, GianMaria caught for a moment the accents of an exquisite male voice singinga love-song to the accompaniment of a lute.
"Una donna piu bella assai che 'l sole..."
came the words of Petrarch, and he heard them still, though muffled, fora moment or two after the boy had gone. Then it ceased abruptly, anda pause followed, at the end of which the page returned. Raising theportiere of blue and gold, he invited Gian Maria to enter.
It was a room that spoke with eloquence of the wealth and refinementof Montefeltro, from the gilding and ultramarine of the vaulted ceilingwith its carved frieze of delicately inlaid woodwork, to the pricelesstapestries beneath it. Above a crimson prie-dieu hung a silver crucifix,the exquisite workmanship of the famous Anichino of Ferrara. Yonderstood an inlaid cabinet, surmounted by a crystal mirror and some wondersof Murano glass. There was a picture by Mantegna, some costly cameos anddelicate enamels, an abundance of books, a dulcimer which a fair-hairedpage was examining with inquisitive eyes, and by a window on the rightstood a very handsome harp that Guidobaldo had bought his niece inVenice.
In that choice apartment of hers the Duke found Valentina surroundedby her ladies, Peppe the fool, a couple of pages, and a half-dozengentlemen of her uncle's court. One of these--that same Gonzaga who hadescorted her from the Convent of Santa Sofia--most splendidly arrayed inwhite taby, his vest and doublet rich with gold, sat upon a low stool,idly fingering the lute in his lap, from which Gian Maria inferred thathis had been the voice that had reached him in the ante-chamber.
At the Duke's advent they all rose saving Valentina and received himwith a ceremony that somewhat chilled his ardour. He advanced; thenhalted clumsily, and in a clumsy manner framed a request that he mightspeak with her alone. In a tired, long-suffering way she dismissed thatcourt of hers, and Gian Maria stood waiting until the last of them hadpassed out through the tall windows that abutted on to a delightfulterrace, where, in the midst of a green square, a marble fountainflashed and glimmered in the sunlight.
"Lady," he said, when they were at last alone, "I have news fromBabbiano that demands my instant return." And he approached her byanother step.
In truth he was a dull-witted fellow or else too blinded by fatuityto see and interpret aright the sudden sparkle in her eye, the sudden,unmistakable expression of relief that spread itself upon her face.
"My lord," she answered, in a low, collected voice, "we shall grieve atyour departure."
Fool of a Duke that he was! Blind, crass and most fatuous of wooers! Hadhe been bred in courts and his ears attuned to words that meant nothing,that were but the empty echoes of what should have been meant; was he sonew to courtesies in which the heart had no share, that those words ofValentina's must bring him down upon his knees beside her, to takeher dainty fingers in his fat hands, and to become transformed into aboorish lover of the most outrageous type?
"Shall you so?" he lisped, his glance growing mighty amorous. "Shall youindeed grieve?"
She rose abruptly to her feet.
"I beg that your Highness will rise," she enjoined him coldly, acoldness which changed swiftly to alarm as her endeavours to release herhand proved vain. For despite her struggles he held on stoutly. This wasmere coyness, he assured himself, mere maidenly artifice which he mustbear with until he had overcome it for all time.
"My lord, I implore you!" she continued. "Bethink you of where youare--of who you are."
"Here will I stay until the crack of doom," he answered, with an oddmixture of humour, ardour and ferocity, "unless you consent to listen tome."
"I am ready to listen, my lord," she answered, without veiling arepugnance that he lacked the wit to see. "But it is not necessary thatyou should hold my hand, nor fitting that you should kneel."
"Not fitting?" he exclaimed. "Lady, you do not apprehend me rightly.Is it not fitting that all of us--be we princes or vassals--shall kneelsometimes?"
"At your prayers, my lord, yes, most fitting."
"And is not a man at his prayers when he woos? What fitter shrine in allthe world than his mistress's feet?"
"Release me," she commanded, still struggling. "Your Highness growstiresome and ridiculous."
"Ridiculous?"
His great, sensual mouth fell open. His white cheeks grew mottled, andhis little eyes looked up with a mighty evil gleam in their cruel blue.A moment he stayed so, then he rose up. He released her hands as she hadbidden him, but he clutched her arms instead, which was yet worse.
"Valentina," he said, in a voice that was far from steady, "why do youuse me thus unkindly?"
"But I do not," she protested wearily, drawing back with a shudder fromthe white face that was so near her own, inspiring her with a loathingshe could not repress. "I would not have your Highness look foolish, andyou cannot conceive how----"
"Can you conceive how deeply, how passionately I love you?" he broke in,his grasp tightening.
"My lord, you are hurting me!"
"And are you not hurting me?" he snarled. "What is a pinched arm whencompared with such wounds as your eyes are dealing me? Are you not----"
She had twisted from his grasp, and in a bound she had reached thewindow-door through which her attendants had passed.
"Valentina!" he cried, as he sprang after her, and it was more like thegrowl of a beast than the cry of a lover. He caught her, and with scantceremony he dragged her back into the room.
At this, her latent loathing, contempt and indignation rose up in arms.Never had she heard tell of a woman of her rank being used in thisfashion. She abhorred him, yet she had spared him the humiliation ofhearing it from her lips, intending to fight for her liberty withher uncle. But now, since he handled her as though she had been aserving-wench; since he appeared to know nothing of the deference dueto her, nothing of the delicacies of people well-born and well-bred,she would endure his odious love-making no further. Since he electedto pursue his wooing like a clown, the high-spirited daughter of Urbinopromised herself that in like fashion would she deal with him.
Swinging herself free from his grasp a second time, she caught him astinging buffet on the ducal cheek which--so greatly did it take him bysurprise--all but sent him sprawling.
"Madonna!" he panted. "This indignity to me!"
"And what indignities have not I suffered at your hands?" she retorted,with a fierceness of glance before which he recoiled. And as she nowtowered before him, a beautiful embodiment of wrath, he knew not whetherhe loved her more than he feared her, yet the desire to possess her andto tame her was strong within him.
"Am I a baggage of your camps," she questioned furiously, "to be sohandled by you? Do you forget that I am the niece of Guidobaldo, a ladyof the house of Rovere, and that from my cradle I have known naught butthe respect of all men, be they born never so high? That to such by mybirth I have the right? Must I tell you in plain words, sir, that thoughborn to a throne, your manners are those of a groom? And must I tellyou, ere you will realise it, that no man to whom with my own lips Ihave not given the right, shall set hands upon me as you have done?"
Her eyes flashed, her voice rose, and higher raged the storm; and GianMaria was so tossed and shattered by it that he could but humbly sue forpardon.
"What shall it signify that I am a Duke," he pleaded timidly, "sinceI am become a lover? What is a Duke then? He is but a man, and as themeanest of his subjects his love must take expression. For what doeslove know of rank?"
She was moving towards the window again, and for all that he dared not asecond time arrest her by force, he sought by words to do so.
"Madonna," he exclaimed, "I implore you to hear me. In another hour Ishall be in the saddle, on my way to Babbiano."
"That, sir," she answered him, "is the best
news I have heard since yourcoming." And without waiting for his reply, she stepped through the openwindow on to the terrace.
For a second he hesitated, a sense of angry humiliation oppressing hiswits. Then he started to follow her; but as he reached the window thelittle crook-backed figure of Ser Peppe stood suddenly before him with atinkle of bells, and a mocking grin illumining his face.
"Out of the way, fool," growled the angry Duke. But the odd figure inits motley of red and black continued where it stood.
"If it is Madonna Valentina you seek," said he, "behold her yonder."
And Gian Maria, following the indication of Peppe's lean finger, sawthat she had rejoined her ladies and that thus his opportunity ofspeaking with her was at an end. He turned his shoulder upon the jester,and moved ponderously towards the door by which he had originallyentered the room. It had been well for Ser Peppe had he let him go. Butthe fool, who loved his mistress dearly, and had many of the instinctsof the faithful dog, loving where she loved and hating where she hated,could not repress the desire to send a gibe after the retreating figure,and inflict another wound in that much wounded spirit.
"You find it a hard road to Madonna's heart, Magnificent," he calledafter him. "Where your wisdom is blind be aided by the keen eyes offolly."
The Duke stood still. A man more dignified would have left thattreacherous tongue unheeded. But Dignity and Gian Maria were strangers.He turned, and eyed the figure that now followed him into the room.
"You have knowledge to sell," he guessed contemptuously.
"Knowledge I have--a vast store--but none for sale, Lord Duke. Such asimports you I will bestow if you ask me, for no more than the joy ofbeholding you smile."
"Say on," the Duke bade him, without relaxing the grimness thattightened his flabby face.
Peppe bowed.
"It were an easy thing, most High and Mighty, to win the love of Madonnaif----" He paused dramatically.
"Yes, yes. E dunque! If----?"
"If you had the noble countenance, the splendid height, the shapelylimbs, the courtly speech and princely manner of one I wot of."
"Are you deriding me?" the Duke questioned, unbelieving.
"Ah, no, Highness! I do but tell you how it were possible that my ladymight come to love you. Had you those glorious attributes of him I speakof, and of whom she dreams, it might be easy. But since God fashionedyou such as you are--gross of countenance, fat and stunted of shape,boorish of----"
With a roar the infuriated Duke was upon him. But the fool, as nimble oflegs as he was of tongue, eluded the vicious grasp of those fat hands,and leaping through the window, ran to the shelter of his mistress'spetticoats.