Part 1 (1/2)
The d.u.c.h.ess of Trajetto.
by Anne Manning.
CHAPTER I.
THE d.u.c.h.eSS IN DANGER.
It was night--the d.u.c.h.ess was in bed. Her hand shaded her wakeful eyes from the light of a silver lamp fed with perfumed oil, which shone only on what was calculated to please the taste, minister to the luxury, and display the wealth of the owner. Rare paintings of Scriptural and mythological subjects decorated the walls, the ceiling was richly moulded and gilt, the floor of polished marble was only partially covered with fine matting, a few choice statuettes and vases occupied brackets and niches; the ma.s.sive toilette service and mirror-frame of precious metal were shaded by some texture of light silvery tissue; while half-open cabinets and caskets revealed priceless jewels and fragrant perfumes. On a velvet cus.h.i.+on lay an illuminated missal and a rosary.
Here was every outward appliance, one might think, to make a favourite of fortune happy; but the good and honest face of the d.u.c.h.ess, which spoke her every thought, did not look so. The night was sultry; she had tried to sleep, but could not; and now she was feverishly endeavouring to think of something pleasant, without success.
The deep stone windows of her apartment, which were open, commanded a small garden sleeping in the moonlight, where terraces were cut on a declivity; and where Cupid and Psyche, Diana with her hounds, and Apollo with his bow, gleamed white among orange, lemon, and myrtle. This little pleasaunce was shut in within the walls of a strong baronial castle; and beyond them lay the little town of Fondi, consisting of a single street built on the Appian Way. Beyond it, a lake, a forest, a marsh, stretching down to the blue br.i.m.m.i.n.g Mediterranean. The little town seemed steeped in sleep: the silence was intense.
All at once, a low, regular sound jarred on the d.u.c.h.ess's quickened ear.
”That's a very unaccountable noise,” thought she to herself. ”I wonder what it is. People are about, who ought to be in their beds. If it continues, I shall ring up the Mother-of-the-maids. Now it has stopped.
I wish I were not so wakeful--how tiresome it is!
”What could induce Isabella to write me that disagreeable letter? I fancy the Prince of Sulmona had a hand in it. It is very hard, after the Pope's substantiating my rights as he has done, and bringing me through with a high hand, that I should be a.s.sailed in a fresh quarter. How sorry Rodomonte would have been! Poor fellow, he loved us both so dearly! And if ever a step-mother did her duty by a step-daughter, I did mine by Isabella. But there was too little difference in our ages. She presumed on my forbearance, and tried to domineer over me. I dare say many people fancy the life of a rich young widow must needs be very happy. Some were even stupid enough to think my dear Duke and I could not be as happy as we seemed. Oh, yes, we were!--though he was forty and I but thirteen.”
”Supposing I had been over-persuaded to have Ippolito, how different would have been the story of our lives! Happier for him, possibly, but he may be very well content to be a cardinal. At the same time I have somehow suspected that if ever any one really valued me for myself, he did. They all flatter too much. A flattered person is the tool of the flatterer. It hurts one's mind----
”That noise again! Can it be Caterina snoring? She says she never does: just as if she could hear herself! Whatever it is, I'll have it inquired into. Caterina! Caterina! Cynthia! Cynthia!”
At the sound of the d.u.c.h.ess's voice, two of her attendants came running in from the antechamber. One of them was a withered old woman with a very benevolent face and thin grey hair fastened at the top of her head in a little knot about as big as an egg, with a bodkin: the other a Moorish girl, with large, startled, l.u.s.trous eyes, and symmetrical as one of Calypso's nymphs moulded in bronze. She was in a single white garment, but had caught up a striped goat's hair haik, which by day formed the upper part of her attire.
”Did Leila call?” ”What will your Vossignoria?”
”I called because I could bear your snoring no longer, Caterina.”
”_I_ snore?” repeated Caterina, with a look of injured innocence.
”Vossignoria must surely be mistaken; for I was lying wide awake, with Cynthia sleeping beside me, as quiet as a lamb.”
”You were dreaming that you were awake,” said the d.u.c.h.ess. ”I have not once closed my eyes, nor has it been possible--Hark! there is the noise again!” cried she, excitedly. ”What on earth can it be?”
They remained transfixed, with suspended breath, in various att.i.tudes of surprise and affright; each of them intently listening.
”I hear nothing, Eccellenza,” began Caterina.
”There! there!” exclaimed the d.u.c.h.ess.
Cynthia suddenly sprang to one of the open windows, and looked out--then, clapped her hands to her head, and gave an unearthly yell.
”What is it?” cried Caterina, hastening towards her, and peering forth into the darkness. Then, shrieking, she exclaimed,----”The pirates are upon us!”
”_Balzo dal letto._”[1]--The d.u.c.h.ess sprang from her bed, and took one hasty glance from the window. She could discern a string of turbaned figures with gleaming scimitars swarming up the walls, and leaping down on the inner side.
[1] ”Come lupi famelici entrarono in Fondi que' barbari, destandovi tra gli ululati degli abitanti un tumulto indicibile.
Il fremito de' ribaldi a.s.salitori, le grida degli a.s.saliti che a.s.sordavano l' aria, ruppero a Giulia il sonno, e mentre palpitando e incerta iva pensando qual potesse essere la cagione di tanto rumore, eccole i pallidi famiglieri col tristo annunzio che i Turchi scorrevano l' occupata citta, e che non vi era tempo a perdere se bramava salvarsi dalle indegne loro mani.