Vistula

“ The king was obliged to give his consent. 'When my son hears of his exile,' thought Sanjaya, 'he will take it to heart.' But this was not the case. Visvantara simply said, 'I shall leave tomorrow, father, and I shall take none of my treasures with me.' Then he went to look for Madri, his princess. 'Madri,' said he, 'I must leave the city; my father has exiled me to a cruel desert, where it will be hard to find a livelihood. Do not come with me, O beloved; too great are the hardships you will have to endure. You will have to leave the children behind, and they will die of loneliness. ”

“ He was a little, frail old man, with white hair and yellow teeth. 'Traveller,' he said to the prince, 'is this the road to Jayatura?' 'Yes,' replied the prince, 'but why are you going to Jayatura?' 'The king of that city has a son, Prince Visvantara,' said the brahman. 'Visvantara, according to the stories I have heard, is extremely charitable; he saved the kingdom of Kalinga from famine, and whatever is asked of him is never refused. I shall go to Visvantara, and I know he will not deny my request.' 'If you go to Jayatura,' said the prince, 'you will not see Visvantara ”

“ Please enter.' In the great hall, Visvantara and Madri sat on thrones of gold; at their feet, the children played on heavy rugs, and the old man presented them with many beautiful robes. Exquisite food was then served to them, and they appeased their hunger. But Visvantara was lost in thought. Suddenly, he rose from his seat, and he said to the old man, 'My lord, I am disobeying my father's commands. He banished me from Jayatura, where he is king, and he ordered me to spend the rest of my life in the desert. ”

“ Della Scala, Duke of Verona, had owned fair lands and wide, Verona, Brescia, all now in Visconti's hands. The secretary wondered, as he thought, how long it would be before the triumphant Gian threw away the mere rag of respect, the mere mockery of a title which bound him to the Empire, and became King of Lombardy in name as well as power.
"And thou thyself, my lord," he said. "Thou wilt marry a Valois to thy sister! Who will be thy bride?"
Visconti smiled. "These marriages are for ambition. Dost thou think I shall marry for ambition? No, Giannotto, I have placed myself above need of that. ”

“ All hope has fled, and I shall return to my home as poor as when I left!' He wept. 'Do not weep,' said Visvantara; 'I am the man you seek. You have not met me in vain. Madri, Jalin, Krishnajina, get down from the chariot! It is no longer mine: I have given it to this old man.' The brahman was overjoyed. The four exiles continued on their way. They were now on foot, and when the children were tired, Visvantara would carry Jalin, and Madri Krishnajina. A few days later, they saw a third brahman approaching. He was going to Jayatura to see Prince Visvantara and ask him for alms. ”

“ But in her heart the proud Lady of Catzu had little sympathy for the one who was to be sacrificed to the vengeance of a samurai. When she recalled that her niece was renouncing her lover to whom she had pledged herself to all eternity, she thought, with the selfish egotism of one who has outgrown her own heart, that in marrying a prince, even though she won him by trickery, certainly her niece would be faring better than if she had bestowed herself on one of his vassals.
Then, too, Wistaria, after all, was merely a female—an Eta maiden. ”

“ The shade of Visconti's face deepened as he looked at her: compared to his sister, Graziosa was a candle beside the sun; the contrast did not please Gian.
D'Orleans rose and bowed low to the lady, yet in a way that was not respectful.
"So there has been a challenge from the enemy," he lisped. "Now I shall love to see a single meeting of brave swords again."
"Who said so?" asked Visconti. He came slowly down the steps; his manner had quite changed, and his eyes were on his sister.
"The Lady Valentine," said the Frenchman. ”

“ At that time King Sanjaya was reigning in the city of Jayatura. His wife's name was Phusati, and they had a son, Visvantara. When he came of age, Visvantara married Madri, a princess of rare beauty. She bore him two children: a son, Jalin, and a daughter, Krishnajina. Visvantara owned a white elephant that had the marvellous power to make the rain fall at will. Now, the distant kingdom of Kalinga was visited by a terrible drought. The grass withered; the trees bore no fruit; men and beasts died of hunger and of thirst. ”

“ Visconti remembered. Two years ago, when he had been by half not so great as he stood now, he had refused them in scorn—they meant half his dominions—they would place Carrara on a level with himself.
"Well?" he said, "and if I refuse?"
"A prisoner does not refuse—his liberty," smiled Giacomo. He could afford to smile.
Visconti controlled himself.
"And if I accept—you take my word, all I have to give—a prisoner's word?"
"A Visconti's word," corrected Carrara. "Nay, lord, I think I shall need more than that."
"What more can I give?" he asked. "You waste the time, Carrara." ”

“ HE Lady Wistaria was carried to her father’s home at night. There was no gorgeous cortège, no gayly bedecked attendants or retainers to bend the back and knee to her. She travelled alone, in a covered palanquin borne on the shoulders of hired runners, beside whom the tall, lank figure of her father strode. They set her down in the heart of the city, the rest of the journey being made on foot. When she had last visited her father’s home he had carried her on his back, after he had dismissed the palanquin, for she was then but a small girl of ten. ”

“ Visconti turned them over hastily, till he came upon a document hung with the seals of Verona, a cartel of defiance, neatly endorsed in a clerkly hand, and signed in large, bold writing, "Mastino della Scala."
Eagerly he turned to the cover of the packet, and laid the two writings side by side. They were the same.
Visconti leaned against the black chest, breathing heavily, his face not good to look on in its white devilry.
"He lives! Della Scala lives!" he cried, and struck at himself in his rage. Then his gaze came back to the blood-stained parchment crumpled in his hand. ”

“ Now, this woman is young; she seems quite strong. Let me take her for a servant. She will help me to get up; she will put me to bed; she will watch over me while I sleep. Give me this woman, my lord; you will be doing a good deed, a saintly deed, that will be praised throughout the world.' Visvantara had listened attentively; he was pensive. He looked at Madri. 'Beloved, you heard what the brahman said; what would you answer?' She replied, 'Since you have given away our children: Jalin, the best-beloved, and darling Krishnajina, you can give me to this brahman ”

“ The white agonized face of Isotta rose before him, the fierce rebellious hate that marred Valentine Visconti's beauty, and Visconti's own expression as he stooped to mock a woman in his power; the gallant heart of the little painter throbbed with wrath and honest fury against the tyrant who played with hearts, who thought the offer of a crown he had usurped atoned for crimes as black as hell. ”

“ Visconti stepped close and looked down into his enemy's uncovered face.
"He was not beautiful, this Della Scala," he said.
Then he glanced up and round with a wordless, an unutterable exultation. All he had asked had been given him and more! He, Visconti, Duke of Milan, could ask for nothing more than this moment gave him—a perfect triumph.
Da Ribera peered forward curiously. "He is torn to rags," he said. "He must have fought like a madman——"
"He was mad," said Visconti.
"And the lady?" said de Lana, suddenly, to Visconti. "Where is she, my lord?" ”

“ Visconti laughed wildly. "Do I not say so? Give me the lantern!" and he held out his finger, on which there blazed a splendid ring. "Would any ordinary prisoner wear a ring like this? I tell thee it is a coal from hell, and I will give it thee—for thy lantern. See, how it shines; try if it will burn thee to the bone," and he stripped it from his finger, dropping it on the pavement at the soldier's feet.
"Truly," gasped the soldier, looking at him, "thou art no ordinary man, and as for thy gems—whether they be coals or no, thou shalt have the lantern." ”

“ But Visconti's sister took no heed; she gathered up her reins and signed to her escort to move on.
"Of course," she said, "why should it interest thee?—there is nothing there—it is only a small, mean church, where a poor, obscure traitor lies on his bier." She looked around the startled faces with a bitter scorn on her own. "Who has heard of him?—one Agnolo Vistarnini—killed by the Duke's orders, killed by thy lover's orders, in the very hour that ye betrayed him to him, Graziosa Vistarnini!" ”

“ And with the end of his dagger he drove the paper into the crevice of the stone. "I never loved Verona," he added, with an evil smile.
But Visconti had not heard, nor was he heeding him; his eyes were riveted upon the door.
Again Padua raised the lantern above his head.
The glimmering light fell faintly on a dark chamber, and dimly lit a large black couch from which the tapestry coverlet was half dragged off. Visconti peered an instant over his rescuer's shoulder eagerly, then fell back.
"I cannot," he said sullenly. "I will stay and face Della Scala—I cannot pass that way." ”

“ He is a fool, Giannotto, who thinks that because a woman is a prisoner she is powerless—let him remember her tongue."
"My lord, she may have thought the lady knew," faltered Giannotto.
"Silence!" cried Visconti. "She may have thought I wanted to give Isotta d'Este her liberty! Ah, let her beware! Graziosa, too; why did she not tell her that she lied? Had I not said he lived? Has she no spirit—no dignity—to shame me by her silence and her moans!" ”

“ Visconti turned away. "She is not likely to forget, it seems," he thought. "Her spirit will not trouble my path more."
Neither his nor anyone's. The brilliant, witty, and daring Valentine Visconti was to dare, to mock, to laugh no more; her high spirit was broken, her proud courage gone. From that fearful night she was timorous, shrinking, like a child, wandering and vacant—like Tisio, half-crazed. ”

“ The Lady Evening Glory was no believer in the worship of the sun. Nevertheless, some garrulous maid having carried to her the innocent remark of her niece that she enjoyed viewing the rising of the sun, a few mornings later found the Lady Evening Glory not only arising before the sun, but wending her way through the silent corridors of the palace until she was before the chamber of the Lady Wistaria. Without so much as a tap for admission, she softly pushed aside the sliding shoji. ”

“ As became her rank and the painful tuition of years, she should have pushed very deliberately the flowers from her sill and torn the scroll into ragged pieces, a chastisement prescribed by every etiquette for the temerity of a presumptuous lover.
But the Lady Wistaria did nothing of the sort. She gathered the flowers tenderly and took them in. Then she came back to the casement, and, leaning far out, gazed with piercing wistfulness out into the little garden below. For some minutes she waited, the patience of her caste fading away gradually into that of the impatience of her sex. ”

“ But she is a prisoner of war, and must take her chances like another. Were it the Visconti's wife in such a case—she would not be a prisoner long! Let Mastino della Scala tear her from his foe himself—let him do as Visconti did when the Lady Graziosa was in danger."
"Hold thy tongue," returned Valentine angrily. "You talk as a child—you know not what you say." ”

“ She stood silent in the glory of the sunshine and held out her hands, and he kissed them, and looked at her and laughed pleasantly.
[Pg 246]
"Now art thou happy, donna mia?" he said. "Hast thou all that thou couldst wish?"
"More than I ever dreamed of, my lord," she answered softly. "I did not know the world could be so beautiful—or so happy."
"'Tis but a small return, Graziosa, my beloved, for what thou hast done for me," returned Visconti. "And I will make it more—this is but an earnest of the future. Visconti's wife shall live in such splendor that men shall not see her for its dazzle." ”

“ I suffer more than the pain of one who loses a beloved, for I am tortured with the knowledge that I am guilty. Oh, lady, was it not I who betrayed this prince, and would I not be the indirect cause of dear Toro’s death also? Therefore it is my task to save the life of this prince, if that can be done.”
“But it cannot—cannot,” moaned the Lady Evening Glory. “Thou knowest not thy father!”
“And yet,” said Wistaria, slowly, “I have thought of one way.”
“Anata!”
“Tell me first, my lady, is it not so—that one who marries an Eta is forever after disgraced—branded?” ”

“ With a little cry the Lady Wistaria vanished from her casement.
Meanwhile the intruder, instead of being the aggressor, was defending himself against the flashing blade of the infuriated lover. Too proud to call for aid, the youth opposed to the lover found himself outmatched before the skill and fire of the other. So thinking caution better than valor, he flung his sword at the feet of the lover. ”

“ By now Vittore felt and showed respect.
"Then we will not enter Milan either," said the stranger, "since Visconti has not."
The boy gazed on him, struck by his tone, and Tomaso's eyes, half-closing, reopened and fixed themselves upon the stranger's face.
"Messer, you hate Visconti?" whispered Vittore.
The man laughed shortly. "There are many in Lombardy who hate Visconti," he said. "Perhaps I not less than others. Boy," he added, with sudden intensity, "I have only two things to live for: one is to tell Visconti to his face what one man's hatred is." ”