Tales from the Operas. Various

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      “And I also, Signors,” said a fresh voice.

      “What, Signor Bevarana!”

      “Or Gubetta,” said Orsini.

      “That man seems every where; indeed, I do begin to doubt him,” said Gennaro, softly to Orsini.

      “Oh, fear not,” said the other, carelessly. “He is a man of pleasure, like ourselves, and fain not be alone if he can find him company. Thou art still sad, Gennaro.”

      “Oh,” cried one laughingly. “Perchance the Borgia has enchanted him.”

      “That woman’s name again. I swear, Signors, I hate the sound of it.”

      “Ha! ha!” laughed another. “How darst thou speak thus so near her palace?”

      “Her palace. I would I could brand her forehead, as I can and will the wall that bears her name.”

      As they wondered what he meant, he unbuckled his sword, took hold of it as it was sheathed by the point, and running to the palace door, clambered from boss to boss of the carved stone work till he got near the name “Borgia,” jutting from the face of the doorway. Then he raised the sword, beat its hilt down upon the “B” commencing the name, and in a few moments the letter, splintered to fragments, lay upon the ground.

      So those who stood below read on the proud door, and beneath the proud arms of the Borgias, the meaning word “Orgia.”

      “Great heaven, Gennaro!” Even the brave Orsini was frightened, and the others looked at each other in terrible inquiry, as they read the terrible truth—“Orgia.”

      Said Gubetta, whom they had insolently called Beverana, “In faith, that jest may cost thee dear.”

      “In faith, I can pay my debts, Signor.”

      “See, Gennaro, there are eyes watching us,” said Orsini; not meaning Gubetta, but two men, dressed in the flowing black cloaks of the time, like shrouds for sin, who met some little distance off in the square, and seemed to defy each other.

      The youth Gennaro made no reply to the warning, but gaily saying “good bye, good bye;” turned to his house, and entered it, while the roysterers dispersed in different directions.

      The men of the cloaks still seemed to defy each other furtively; still remained; not standing quiet, and yet not walking with a purpose. The sounds of the tripping footsteps dying away, these two men approached each other, each with his arms wrapped in his cloak, and, perhaps, each with his right hand on his sword.

      “Why does the Signor wait here?”

      “The Signor is waiting for thy going. And Signor himself?”—

      “Is waiting to see thee leave this square.”

      “Prythee, why art thou here?”

      “Perhaps the young Venetian who lives here, and for whom thou art waiting!”

      “I?”

      “Yes, where goest thou with him?”

      “Stand back, in the name of the duchess.”

      “Stand back thyself, in the name of the DUKE.”

      “The duchess is powerful!”

      “The duke is death.”

      “Now who shall conquer?”

      “We will see.”

      A sharp, yet low whistle, from the lips of this last speaker, who stood beside the duke, when he watched his duchess away there in Venice, and watched her from a gondola. Barely had the whistle whispered through the air, than a score of soft-footed men, each like each, enveloped in a shroud-like cloak, surrounded him who had spoken by the duchess.

      “Beware—the duchess.”

      “Be silent, and depart. This youth hath offended the duke. Be silent, and fear not.”

      They carried him away with them, and in the wide square only stood the duke’s servant, watching Gennaro’s house.

CHAPTER III.

       Table of Contents

      Go we now to the grand palace, where the husband and wife watched each other ceaselessly, each ever fearing death at the hands of the other. A happy palace, truly.

      See, standing there, in that splendid royal room, are the duke and Rustighello, who had stood watching Gennaro’s house.

      “Well?”

      “All is done, sire. The prisoner is now within the palace.”

      Keeping his eyes fixed upon the other’s face, the duke drew from his waist a small golden key. “’Tis to unlock the hidden door of a hidden staircase, to be crept up, till a little chamber is reached. Then there are two vases, one of gold, and one of silver, each filled with wine, to be brought down, carried to the next room, and there be ready. Let not the golden vase tempt him, for it holds the wine of the Borgias. Then, if he be called, let him bring the vases; but if there be no call, then, good Rustighello, thy sword.”

      Then this mighty duke starts as a servant at the door announces “the Duchess.”

      Forward she comes, sparkling with rage and diamonds; no longer dressed in heavy black, but in rich rustling brocade, a sweeping coronet of jewels round her head.

      “The duchess seems unquiet.”

      “Enraged. I come here to call for justice. A shameful crime hath been committed, the name of thy duchess has been degraded.”

      “Softly, duchess, I know it.”

      “And thou dost not punish the offender; doth he still live?”

      “Live? Yes. That thou mayest destroy him, duchess. Nay, he will be before thee in another minute.”

      “Let him be whom he may, I demand his life, and in my presence, duke. Thou wilt give me thy word for this, my lord?”

      “I do, most heartily, dear duchess. I give thee my sacred word.”

      Then, to a page, who has entered after the duchess:

      “Let the prisoner be brought forward.”

      “Duchess, thou tremblest, thou dost know this man.”

      This man is Gennaro, brought in before the angry duke and duchess, and standing fearlessly.

      “I—I do not know him.”

      “Pray, may I ask the duke why I am here—why I have been torn from my house? May I dare СКАЧАТЬ