CHAPTER V. THE WARNING

  I prayed that evening more fervently than I had prayed since quittingMonte Orsaro. It was as if all the influences of my youth, which latelyhad been shaken off in the stir of intrigue and of rides that had seemedthe prelude to battle, were closing round me again.

  Even as a woman had lured me once from the ways to which I seemedpredestined, only to drive me back once more the more frenziedly, so nowit almost seemed as if again a woman should have lured me to the worldbut to drive me from it again and more resolutely than ever. For I wasanew upon the edge of a resolve to have done with all human interestsand to seek the peace and seclusion of the cloister.

  And then I bethought me of Gervasio. I would go to him for guidance, asI had done aforetime. I would ride on the morrow to seek him out in theconvent near Piacenza to which he had withdrawn.

  I was disturbed at last by the coming of a page to my chamber with theannouncement that my lord was already at supper.

  I had thoughts of excusing myself, but in the end I went.

  The repast was spread, as usual, in the banqueting-hall of the castle;and about the splendid table was Pier Luigi's company, amounting tonigh upon a score in all. The Duke himself sat on Monna Bianca's right,whilst on her left was Cosimo.

  Heeding little whether I was observed or not, I sank to a vacant place,midway down the board, between one of the Duke's pretty young gentlemenand one of the ladies of that curious train--a bold-eyed Roman woman,whose name, I remember, was Valeria Cesarini, but who matters nothing inthese pages. Almost facing me sat Giuliana, but I was hardly consciousof her, or conscious, indeed, of any save Monna Bianca.

  Once or twice Bianca's glance met mine, but it fell away again upon theinstant. She was very pale, and there were wistful lines about her lips;yet her mood was singular. Her eyes had an unnatural sparkle, and everand anon she would smile at what was said to her in half-whispers, nowby the Duke, now by Cosimo, whilst once or twice she laughed outright.Gone was the usual chill reserve with which she hedged herself about todistance the hateful advances of Pier Luigi. There were moments now whenshe seemed almost flattered by his vile ogling and adulatory speeches,as if she had been one of those brazen ladies of his Court.

  It wounded me sorely. I could not understand it, lacking the wit to seethat this queer mood sprang from the blow I had dealt her, and was theoutward manifestation of her own pain at the shattering of the illusionsshe had harboured concerning myself.

  And so I sat there moodily, gnawing my lip and scowling darkly upon PierLuigi and upon my cousin, who was as assiduous in his attentions as hismaster, and who seemed to be receiving an even greater proportion of herfavours. One little thing there was to hearten me. Looking at the Lordof Pagliano, who sat at the table's head, I observed that his glancewas dark as it kept watch upon his daughter--that chaste white lily thatseemed of a sudden to have assumed such wanton airs.

  It was a matter that stirred me to battle, and forgotten again were myresolves to seek Gervasio, forgotten all notion of abandoning the worldfor the second time. Here was work to be done. Bianca was to be guarded.Perhaps it was in this that she would come to have need of me.

  Once Cosimo caught my gloomy looks, and he leaned over to speak to theDuke, who glanced my way with languid, sneering eyes. He had a score tosettle with me for the discomfiture he had that morning suffered at myhands thanks to Bianca's collaboration. He was a clumsy fool, when allis said, and confident now of her support--from the sudden and extremefriendliness of her mood--he ventured to let loose a shaft at me in atone that all the table might overhear.

  "That cousin of yours wears a very conventual hang-dog look," said he toCosimo. And then to the lady on my right--"Forgive, Valeria," he begged,"the scurvy chance that should have sat a shaveling next to you." Lastlyhe turned to me to complete this gross work of offensiveness.

  "When do you look, sir, to enter the life monastic for which Heaven hasso clearly designed you?"

  There were some sycophants who tittered at his stupid pleasantry; thenthe table fell silent to hear what answer I should make, and a frown satlike a thundercloud upon the brow of Cavalcanti.

  I toyed with my goblet, momentarily tempted to fling its contents inhis pustuled face, and risk the consequences. But I bethought me ofsomething else that would make a deadlier missile.

  "Alas!" I sighed. "I have abandoned the notion--constrained to it."

  He took my bait. "Constrained?" quoth he. "Now what fool did soconstrain you?"

  "No fool, but circumstance," I answered. "It has occurred to me," Iexplained, and I boldly held his glance with my own, "that as a simplemonk my life would be fraught with perils, seeing that in these timeseven a bishop is not safe."

  Saving Bianca (who in her sweet innocence did not so much as dream ofthe existence of such vileness as that to which I was referring and bywhich a saintly man had met his death) I do not imagine that there wasa single person present who did not understand to what foul crime Ialluded.

  The silence that followed my words was as oppressive as the silencewhich in Nature preludes thunder.

  A vivid flame of scarlet had overspread the Duke's countenance. Itreceded, leaving his cheeks a greenish white, even to the mottlingpimples. Abashed, his smouldering eyes fell away before my bold, defiantglance. The fingers of his trembling hand tightened about the slenderstem of his Venetian goblet, so that it snapped, and there was a gushof crimson wine upon the snowy napery. His lips were drawn back--like adog's in the act of snarling--and showed the black stumps of his brokenteeth. But he made no sound, uttered no word. It was Cosimo who spoke,half rising as he did so.

  "This insolence, my lord Duke, must be punished; this insult wiped out.Suffer me..."

  But Pier Luigi reached forward across Bianca, set a hand upon mycousin's sleeve, and pressed him back into his seat silencing him.

  "Let be," he said. And looked up the board at Cavalcanti. "It is formy Lord of Pagliano to say if a guest shall be thus affronted at hisboard."

  Cavalcanti's face was set and rigid. "You place a heavy burden on myshoulders," said he, "when your excellency, my guest, appeals to meagainst another guest of mine--against one who is all but friendless andthe son of my own best friend."

  "And my worst enemy," cried Pier Luigi hotly.

  "That is your excellency's own concern, not mine," said Cavalcanticoldly. "But since you appeal to me I will say that Messerd'Anguissola's words were ill-judged in such a season. Yet in justiceI must add that it is not the way of youth to weigh its words toocarefully; and you gave him provocation. When a man--be he never sohigh--permits himself to taunt another, he would do well to see that heis not himself vulnerable to taunts."

  Farnese rose with a horrible oath, and every one of his gentlemen withhim.

  "My lord," he said, "this is to take sides against me; to endorse theaffront."

  "Then you mistake my intention," rejoined Cavalcanti, with an icydignity. "You appeal to me for judgment. And between guests I must holdthe scales dead-level, with no thought for the rank of either. Of yourchivalry, my lord Duke, you must perceive that I could not do else."

  It was the simplest way in which he could have told Farnese that hecared nothing for the rank of either, and of reminding his excellencythat Pagliano, being an Imperial fief, was not a place where the Duke ofParma might ruffle it unchecked.

  Messer Pier Luigi hesitated, entirely out of countenance. Then his eyesturned to Bianca, and his expression softened.

  "What says Madonna Bianca?" he inquired, his manner reassuming somemeasure of its courtliness. "Is her judgment as unmercifully level?"

  She looked up, startled, and laughed a little excitedly, touched by thetenseness of a situation which she did not understand.

  "What say I?" quoth she. "Why, that here is a deal of pother about somefoolish words."

  "And there," cried Pier Luigi, "spoke, I think, not only beauty butwisdom--Minerva's utterances from the lips of Diana!"

  In glad relief the company ech
oed his forced laugh, and all sat downagain, the incident at an end, and my contempt of the Duke increased tosee him permit such a matter to be so lightly ended.

  But that night, when I had retired to my chamber, I was visited byCavalcanti. He was very grave.

  "Agostino," he said, "let me implore you to be circumspect, to keep acurb upon your bitter tongue. Be patient, boy, as I am--and I have moreto endure."

  "I marvel, sir, that you endure it," answered I, for my mood waspetulant.

  "You will marvel less when you are come to my years--if, indeed, youcome to them. For if you pursue this course, and strike back when suchmen as Pier Luigi tap you, you will not be likely to see old age. Bodyof Satan! I would that Galeotto were here! If aught should happen toyou..." He checked, and set a hand upon my shoulder.

  "For your father's sake I love you, Agostino, and I speak as one wholoves you."

  "I know, I know!" I cried, seizing his hand in a sudden penitence. "Iam an ingrate and a fool. And you upheld me nobly at table. Sir, I swearthat I will not submit you to so much concern again."

  He patted my shoulder in a very friendly fashion, and his kindlyeyes smiled upon me. "If you but promise that--for your own sake,Agostino--we need say no more. God send this papal by-blow takes hisdeparture soon, for he is as unwelcome here as he is unbidden."

  "The foul toad!" said I. "To see him daily, hourly bending over MonnaBianca, whispering and ogling--ugh!"

  "It offends you, eh? And for that I love you! There. Be circumspect andpatient, and all will be well. Put your faith in Galeotto, and endureinsults which you may depend upon him to avenge when the hour strikes."

  Upon that he left me, and he left me with a certain comfort. And in thedays that followed, I acted upon his injunction, though, truth to tell,there was little provocation to do otherwise. The Duke ignored me, andall the gentlemen of his following did the like, including Cosimo. Andmeanwhile they revelled at Pagliano and made free with the hospitalityto which they had not been bidden.

  Thus sped another week in which I had not the courage again to approachBianca after what had passed between us at our single interview. Norfor that matter was I afforded the opportunity. The Duke and Cosimowere ever at her side, and yet it almost seemed as if the Duke had givenplace to his captain, for Cosimo's was the greater assiduity now.

  The days were spent at bowls or pallone within the castle, or uponhawking-parties or hunting-parties when presently the Duke's health wassufficiently improved to enable him to sit his horse; and at night therewas feasting which Cavalcanti must provide, and on some evenings wedanced, though that was a diversion in which I took no part, havingneither the will nor the art.

  One night as I sat in the gallery above the great hall, watching themfooting it upon the mosaic floor below, Giuliana's deep, slow voicebehind me stirred me out of my musings. She had espied me up there andhad come to join me, although hitherto I had most sedulously avoidedher, neither addressing her nor giving her the opportunity to address mesince the first brazen speech on her arrival.

  "That white-faced lily, Madonna Bianca de' Cavalcanti, seems to havecaught the Duke in her net of innocence," said she.

  I started round as if I had been stung, and at sight of my empurplingface she slowly smiled, the same hateful smile that I had seen uponher face that day in the garden when Gambara had bargained for her withFifanti.

  "You are greatly daring," said I.

  "To take in vain the name of her white innocence?" she answered, smilingsuperciliously. And then she grew more serious. "Look, Agostino, we werefriends once. I would be your friend now."

  "It is a friendship, Madonna, best not given expression."

  "Ha! We are very scrupulous--are we not?--since we have abandoned theways of holiness, and returned to this world of wickedness, and raisedour eyes to the pale purity of the daughter of Cavalcanti!" She spokesneeringly.

  "What is that to you?" I asked.

  "Nothing," she answered frankly. "But that another may have raised hiseyes to her is something. I am honest with you. If this child is aughtto you, and you would not lose her, you would do well to guard her moreclosely than you are wont. A word in season. That is all my message."

  "Stay!" I begged her now, for already she was gliding away through theshadows of the gallery.

  She laughed over her shoulder at me--the very incarnation of effronteryand insolence.

  "Have I moved you into sensibility?" quoth she. "Will you condescendto questions with one whom you despise?--as, indeed," she added with astinging scorn, "you have every right to do."

  "Tell me more precisely what you mean," I begged her, for her words hadmoved me fearfully.

  "Gesu!" she exclaimed. "Can I be more precise? Must I add counsels?Why, then, I counsel that a change of air might benefit Madonna Bianca'shealth, and that if my Lord of Pagliano is wise, he will send her intoretreat in some convent until the Duke's visit here is at an end. AndI can promise you that in that case it will be the sooner ended. Now, Ithink that even a saint should understand me."

  With that last gibe she moved resolutely on and left me.

  Of the gibe I took little heed. What imported was her warning. And Idid not doubt that she had good cause to warn me. I remembered with ashudder her old-time habit of listening at doors. It was very probablethat in like manner had she now gathered information that entitled herto give me such advice.

  It was incredible. And yet I knew that it was true, and I cursed myblindness and Cavalcanti's. What precisely Farnese's designs might be Icould not conceive. It was hard to think that he should dare so much asGiuliana more than hinted. It may be that, after all, there was no morethan just the danger of it, and that her own base interests urged her todo what she could to avert it.

  In any case, her advice was sound; and perhaps, as she said, the removalof Bianca quietly might be the means of helping Pier Luigi's unwelcomevisit to an end.

  Indeed, it was so. It was Bianca who held him at Pagliano, as theblindest idiot should have perceived.

  That very night I would seek out Cavalcanti ere I retired to sleep.