THE BIRTHDAY.
In solitude and anxiety, with barred windows and bolted doors, did the banditti pass the day immediately succeeding Matteo's murder;every murmur in the street appeared to them a cause of apprehension;every footstep which approached their doors made them tremble till it had passed them.
In the meanwhile the ducal palace blazed with splendour and resounded with mirth. The Doge celebrated the birthday of his fair niece, Rosabella; and the feast was honoured by the presence of the chief persons of the city, of the foreign ambassadors, and of many illustrious strangers who were at that time resident in Venice.
On this occasion no expense had been spared, no source of pleasure had been neglected. The arts contended with each other for superiority; the best poets in Venice celebrated this day with powers excelling anything which they had before exhibited, for the subject of their verses was Rosabella; the musicians and virtuosi surpassed all their former triumphs, for their object was to obtain the suffrage of Rosabella. The singular union of all kinds of pleasure intoxicated the imagination of every guest; and the genius of delight extended his influence over the whole assembly, over the old man and the youth, over the matron and the virgin.
The venerable Andreas had seldom been in such high spirits as on this occasion. He was all life; smiles of satisfaction played round his lips; gracious and condescending to every one, he made it his chief care to prevent his rank from being felt. Sometimes he trifled with the ladies, whose beauty formed the greatest ornament of this entertainment; sometimes he mingled among the masks, whose fantastic appearance and gaiety of conversation enlivened the ball-room by their variety; at other times he played chess with the generals and admirals of the Republic; and frequently he forsook everything to gaze with delight on Rosabella's dancing, or listen in silent rapture to Rosabella's music.
Lomellino, Conari, and Paolo Manfrone, the Doge's three confidential friends and counsellors, in defiance of their grey hairs, mingled in the throng of youthful beauties, flirted first with one and then with another, and the arrows of raillery were darted and received on both sides with spirit and good humour.
"Now, Lomellino," said Andreas to his friend, who entered the saloon in which the Doge was at that time accidentally alone with his niece, "you seem in gayer spirits this evening than when we were lying before Scardona, and had so hard a game to play against the Turks."Lomellino.--I shall not take upon me to deny that, signor. I still think with a mixture of terror and satisfaction on the night when we took Scardona, and carried the half-moon before the city walls. By my soul, our Venetians fought like lions.
Andreas.--Fill this goblet to their memory, my old soldier; you have earned your rest bravely.
Lomellino.--Aye, signor, and oh, it is so sweet to rest on laurels.
But in truth, 'tis to you that I am indebted for mine; it is you who have immortalised me. No soul on earth would have known that Lomellino existed, had he not fought in Dalmatia and Sicilia under the banners of the great Andreas, and assisted him in raising eternal trophies in honour of the Republic.
Andreas.--My good Lomellino, the Cyprus wine must have heated your imagination.
Lomellino.--Nay, I know well I ought not to call you great, and praise you thus openly to your face; but faith, signor, I am grown too old for it to be worth my while to flatter. That is a business which I leave to our young courtiers, who have never yet come within the smell of powder, and never have fought for Venice and Andreas.
Andreas.--You are an old enthusiast. Think you the Emperor is of the same opinion?
Lomellino.--Unless Charles the Fifth is deceived by those about him, or is too proud to allow the greatness of an enemy, he must say, perforce, "There is but one man on earth whom I fear, and who is worthy to contend with me, and that man is Andreas."Andreas.--I suspect he will be sorely displeased when he receives my answer to the message by which he notified to me the imprisonment of the French king.
Lomellino.--Displeased he will be, signor, no doubt of it; but what then? Venice need not fear his displeasure, while Andreas still lives. But when you and your heroes are once gone to your eternal rest--then, alas for thee, poor Venice. I fear your golden times will soon come to their conclusion.
Andreas.--What! Have we not many young officers of great promise?
Lomellino.--Alas, what are most of them? Heroes in the fields of Venus. Heroes at a drinking-bout. Effeminate striplings, relaxed both in mind and body. But how am I running on, forgetful. Ah, when one is grown old, and conversing with an Andreas, it is easy to forget everything else. My lord, I sought you with a request, a request, too, of consequence.
Andreas.--You excite my curiosity.
Lomellino.--About a week ago there arrived here a young Florentine nobleman called Flodoardo, a youth of noble appearance and great promise.
Andreas.--Well?
Lomellino.--His father was one of my dearest friends. He is dead now, the good old generous nobleman. In our youth we served together on board the same vessel, and many a turbaned head has fallen beneath his sword. Ah, he was a brave soldier.
Andreas.--While celebrating the father's bravery, you seem to have quite forgotten the son.
Lomellino.--His son is arrived in Venice, and wishes to enter into the service of the Republic. I entreat you, give the young man some respectable situation; he will prove the boast of Venice when we shall be in our graves, on that would I hazard my existence.
Andreas.--Has he sense and talent?
