The Viper of Milan: A Romance of Lombardy

ile midnight encounter, and Francisc

rd the city, watching the figure of Vittore, who trudge

boy looking back often to renew his courage - Francisco's brow was furrowed, and his eyes heavy with sleeplessness. The stream, clear, deep, and sparkling, here ran darkened with the shadow of the willows that bent ov

d a clear-cut black against the sky, and on the broad, fan-like surface brooded a pair of doves, pink, grey, and white. The beauty of the scene, its calmness and repose, exasperated the man's inaction. He stamped on the little flowers at his feet, then, with a bitter curse at his folly, threw himself upon the grass to watch for Vittore's return, and ponder, for ever ponder, on his purpose. Suddenly there shot into sight upon the stream a little boat, with high curling prow and gaily painted sides. A blue sail was furled above it,

n of restlessness; of the good humour common to the people too. His companion was a young girl dressed in a simple blue gown. She was a delicate blonde, very young, very slender; the curls of her amber hair were blown acr

, the man paused on his oar

ret haunt. Graziosa and I had thought this place our own,'

side the path, and Franci

ranger her

ew, and with the awakening

I have been through the fairest parts of Tuscany, I have wandered about Naples, but never have I seen such colours, such

among the reeds in his eage

,' returned Francisco. 'Yet methinks I have seen sp

girl leaned forward, laughing. 'You forget, f

e, helping his daughter to follow him. Francisco, preoccupied and mistrustful, saw this with uneasiness, and wo

ced pointing out the beauties of the yellow lichen against the villa wall, the sight of which had restored all his good humour.

ween grimness and scorn.

huge frame and tattered attire,

ter. Agnolo Vistarnini is my name, messer, a student of Taddeo Gad

, messer, but I can see I can see! Which

rning to his daughter, 'w

l of wood, polished and carefully planed, upon which he began to dr

dividing his attention between the panel and his daughter, who

ointing to the slender figure in blue. He blew a kis

d Francisco suddenly. Vistarnini sta

. 'God forbid there should be a mode

aid Francisco with a bitter smile, 'one who we

in this lonely spot such words are far from safe. Who art thou, messer, who

the Visconti speak wi

gazed at him

the other. 'I am Francisco di Coldra, on

ter a pause. 'The sack of Verona was some time ag

nter did not even try to understand them; but th

eryone - Alberic, da Salluzzo comes galloping to the walls - red-hot upon some report that the Visconti has been slain - to look to the arming of the citizens. Even as we strain from the window, following the flash of his plumes - back he comes in madder haste - the Visconti is alive! The people shout and yell, and some cry 'tis not the Visconti's army on the road, but della Scala's. Meanwhile a mob, with Napoleone della Torre at their head, begins to agitate, to threaten riot. With a strong hand Alberic puts them down - the streets are cleared, Graziosa and I on the balcony, all is dark, silent, save now and then the clink of the armour of the sentries on the walls. I am too excited for sleep, messer, all so hushed, so subd

want of breath, and gl

ds were clenched. The little painter had a vague sense of having allowed

ruly, and one to fire the blood, but I am a man of peace, and I gre

ger rose

shly. 'I love to hear his name as little as

e lost his all in the sacked town. 'I know little of such things, but 'twas here and there asserted h

, doubtless,' said Fran

ints protect my daughter from all share in them,' and he glanced affectionately t

r-piece - for the lunettes. I shall have Graziosa as St Catherine, and Ambrog

poke, and began arra

, save that his glance was caught almost involuntarily b

ent in the happiness that was such a contrast

ed up with sp

t'Apollinare in Brescia. We have not seen his painting, the journey is t

her outspokenness, and her f

t! He will sit for hours thinking how the fold of a robe should fall. I, however, have seen Taddeo Gaddi paint! The angels would

will draw all Lom

altar-piece has all his time; thou but a few meagre hours a week! Still, they love each other, messer, and are happy, so we

y, 'so never mind whether he paint t

Good-bye,' he called, and Graziosa waved a hand; then somethin

are sternly barred to any stranger . . . ' But Graziosa, glancing also at the s

ere any service we could render, any message -? We live at th

er it,' said F

smiling face, and, with gentle strokes fro

again, momentary misgiving seized h

re and good speech, of humble rank and careless happiness, were new to him. The painter's talk of his craft had had no meaning for Francisco, it had passed from his mind for crazine

sent helplessness, Francisco paced to and fro,

on the great clump of yellow li

g that interested him, something very m

the rusty iron of a disused bolt. There was a door here, then, that led

had been left well-nigh impossible. But here was an entrance that had been overlooked, and it was not to be wondered at, for the rusty bolt could have been discerned only by eyes as keen as his, and the door belonging was completely hidden by close-growing ivy, too frail to climb by, but the most effectual of all concealments. Tearing up the lichen from its roots,

g in the city?'

ell my sister he was still unwed. They jested finely, but I should not like t

hou need to change the

not enough! They s

oney of the Veronese,' said Francisco, wi

bystander reached forward, and gave me a piece of Milanese. He said that he w

something that th

t safe for other journeys, as I promised thee. Go on to the hut, and give thyse

ught him and Tomaso both that what Francisco said he meant, and hi

his attack upon the ivy, and after many a wrench and cut and struggle, the garden

nd arm well through the breach, with no great difficulty withdrew the upper and lower bolts. With knee and shoulder then he p

used, he replaced the loose strands of ivy as far as he was able, and slipping t

ed a patch of velvety green starred with daisies. Before him a

r sound save the distant one of faintly splashing water. Treading softly, Franc