Part 27 (1/2)
That was a fair sight which greeted the travellers at the close of the next day--the towers of Ferrara rising stately out of a green thicket.
The lovers trilled their happiness to each other: surely nothing but pleasure and a smooth life could come out of so treeful a place!
”In our Venice, you must know,” said Bellaroba, ”we set great store by green boughs, having so few of them. We think that harshness and clamour may hunt the ca.n.a.ls, but that birds can sing in gardens of a world really joyful. What a cloud of green trees--look, look how near the sky comes to them! Oh, my Angioletto, we are going to be so happy!” And the young girl laid her hot cheek on her lover's shoulder.
He, though her premises were undeniable, had his doubts. Her words set him wondering what was to be the end of this light-hearted adventure.
”My dear,” said he, ”if trees get in a man's way of villainy or incommode his pleasures he will cut them down, depend upon it.”
”Well, silly boy,” she cried, and gave him a peck of a kiss, ”and does not that prove what I say, that there are no villainies in Ferrara? For, see, the trees are as thick as a forest.” She made him laugh again before many paces. His ringing tones caught the ears of Captain Mosca, and set that great man scowling.
”If I don't get a crumb down that yapping gullet, call me not Mosca,” he grumbled.
”Speak a little louder, Signor Capitano,” said his pillion.
”Your pardon, Madonna Olimpia,” he answered, ”but I believe I was breathing a prayer on account of the little love-boy yonder.”
Olimpia laughed. ”I love him as much as you do, I dare swear,” said she; ”but he may be very useful. Remember that I am but a poor gentlewoman with my fortune to make.”
”Give me the making of it, my angel,” cried the Captain, crus.h.i.+ng his heart with his fist. ”You shall have the most crowded _cortile_ in Ferrara. May I give you a humble bit of advice?”
”Certainly you may.”
”It will be this, then, that you hold off from Monna Nanna and keep yourself very much to yourself. Between us we can arrange a pretty future. I know Monna Nanna better than becomes me. Believe me, the acquaintance would become you still less. But with such talents as I have--and they are all yours--I can arrange for you a most proper dwelling-place which shall cost little and bring much in.”
”But we cannot live there alone, Captain.”
”Hey! I am beforehand. I parry with the head, my d.u.c.h.ess,” cried the delighted Mosca. ”I have thought of all that. There is an old lady of my friends.h.i.+p in the city, by name Donna Matura. She is something decayed in estate o' these days, has fewer crusts than teeth, poor soul, but has mingled with the highest. She will be all that you could wish, and you more than she could hope for. Think of it, lady, think of it.”
”I will,” said Olimpia, who had already done so. There is no doubt that she and the Mosca understood each other.
They were now riding up the long lime-tree avenue which leads to the Sea-Gate of Ferrara; soon they entered Ferrara itself, that city of warm red brick, of broad eaves, of laughter, and, as it were, a fairy-tale, bowered in rustling green. The streets ran wide between garden walls and the ma.s.sy fronts of great square houses; they were full of a traffic which seemed that of a prosperous people bent upon pleasure. Happy ladies rode by with hawks or leashed dogs, or crowns of flowers.
Cavaliers, in white and yellow, ribboned, slashed, curled, and feathered, went in and out of the throng to keep an a.s.signation, or to break one. The priests joked with the women, the very urchins coaxed for kisses. Every street corner had its lovers' tryst, never a garden walk without its loitering pair, never a lady came out of a church door but there stood a devout adorer to beg a touch of holy water from her finger-tip.
”How happy this people is,” cried Bellaroba, flushed and sparkling, to her little lord. ”Everybody loves everybody else.”
”My dear, we have nothing to do with their loves; we are going to be married,” replied Angioletto, looking straight before him.
”Yes, Angioletto,” said she, as meek as a mouse.
Olimpia, who was not thinking of marriage, was highly entertained.
There was a press of grooms and led horses, richly caparisoned, outside the open doors of a new and very s.p.a.cious palace. Round about them crowded people of a meaner sort, and beggars not a few; but a lane was kept to the gateway by soldiers in red and yellow, who bore upon their b.r.e.a.s.t.s a quartered coat of eagles and lilies.
”Hist!” said Mosca, pulling up his horse. ”This is the fine new palace of the Duke, which he calls his Schifanoia. He is evidently expected in from his hawking. The greatest falconer you ever knew, my life! I do a.s.sure you.”
”That may very well be,” said Olimpia, ”for I have never known one at all.”
”You shall know this one before I die, and another who is my most n.o.ble master,” cried Mosca, ”or I am your kennel-dog for nothing.”
”Let us wait a little and see this hawking Duke of yours,” Olimpia said, with a gentle pressure of her arms about the Captain's middle.