Bernard Capes

“ Carlo, on the further side, laughed loud.
'It is always the same here,' grumbled the Fool. 'They will have our stings drawn like snakes' before they will sport with us. They love not in this Italy the joke which tells against themselves—of that a poor motley must ware. It muzzles him, muzzles him—drives the poison down and in; and you wonder at the bile in my face!'
He fell back, having uttered his snarl, with politic suddenness, and posted to the rear of the litter. The moment he was away, Bembo turned upon his host with a kindling look of affection. ”

“ Lanti raised his whip furiously. Cicada, slipping from his mule, dodged behind Bembo.
'Save me!' he squealed, 'save me! I am sound. It is folly to give a sound man a tonic.'
Carlo burst into a vexed laugh.
'Well,' said he, 'go to. I think I am in a rare mood for charity.'
The little party breakfasted on cups of clear water from the spring, and, in the fresh of the morning, folded its tents and started leisurely on the final stages of its journey. Madonna, lazy-lidded, sat her palfrey like a vine-goddess. Her bosom rose and fell in absolute tranquillity. ”

“ Carlo, watching and listening, knitted his brow in a sudden frown, and his hand stole down to his belt.
'Give me thy dish,' said Beatrice, almost with entreaty.
Bernardo laughed. With the finish of his madrigal he had pushed his lute, in a hurry of pink shame, to his shoulder.
'Nay, Madonna,' he protested. 'Like the simplest doctor, I but spoke my qualifications. Feeling is half-way to curing, and the best recommended physician is he who hath practised on himself. ”

“ He rose and fled, bloody and bemired, from the arbour. Madonna, seeing him escape, sunk, with a fainting sigh, upon her bench.
Carlo mouthed after his vanishing prey; yet he was tender with his burden.
'Love!' he groaned: 'Thou ow'st me? Not this—so damned to folly! There, let go. He was but the tool—and, for the rest——'
He glowered round.
'Hush!' said Bembo. 'It is but the fruits of her teaching. Blame not thy pupil, Carlo.'
'My pupil!'
'Is she Christ's—or art thou? Love gives life, Carlo ”

“ I am a saint in heaven,
Alas, and alas!'
He never took his eyes, while he sang, off the wondering face opposite him. It was strangely transformed by the end—flesh startled out of ivory—the face of a wakened Galatea. Narcisso coming at the moment to place the first dishes of the meal before the company, she sat up, her hands to her bosom, with a quick, agitated movement.
'It is well,' she said. 'I am thy convert, saint in heaven!' She lifted the dish before her, and held it out with a nervous smile. 'Let us exchange pledges, by the token. ”

“ From the outset hath she been manoeuvring to confuse the Nature in man by using its distorted image in herself to lure him. Out upon her crimps and lacings! He would be dressing and thinking to-day like an Arcadian shepherd, an she had not warped his poor vision with her sorcery! She wears the vestments of ugliness, and its worship is her religion.'
It must be admitted that he offered himself a cross illustration to his own text. ”

“ Bembo smiled very kindly.
'Christ's love was all His sword and buckler,' said he.
'And He was crucified,' said Carlo grimly.
'And died a virgin,' answered the boy, 'that He might make for ever chaste Love His heir.'
'Well,' grumbled Lanti, 'there reigns an impostor these fourteen hundred years or so in His place, that's all. I hope the right heir may prove his title. 'Tis a long tenure to dispossess. Methinks men have forgotten.'
'Yes, they have forgotten,' said the boy ”

“ She was on her feet. She kissed the rim of the dish. 'Wilt thou refuse now? Bid him to, Carlo.'
'Not I,' said Lanti. 'Hath not, no more than myself, been whipped into the classics for nothing? Quod ali cibus est aliis fuat acre venenum. ”

“ The occasion which had given, which was still giving, Carlo a tough thought or two to digest, she had already, on the morning following her discomfiture, assimilated, apparently without a pang. 'The which doth demonstrate,' thought Cicada, as he took covert and venomous note of her, 'a signal point of difference between the sexes. In self-indulgent wickedness there may be little to distinguish man from woman. In the reaction from it, there is this: The man is subject to qualms of conscience; the woman is not. She may be disenchanted, surfeited, aggrieved against fate or circumstance ”