ABOUT the middle of the sixteenth century, amongst many Florentine merchants, who resided in the celebrated city of Venice, was, a company of bankers, called the Salviati; whose business being great, they were obliged to keep many young men in their service, for writing, negotiating, and other offices. The principal of these was one Pietro Buonaventuri, a citizen of Florence, young, handsome, and genteel, whom they employed as cashier.
Over against this bank lived a noble Venetian, the name of whose family was Capello; he had amongst other children a daughter called Bianca, extremely beautiful, and of so winning and graceful behaviour as enhanced the lustre of her charms. This lady, the before-mentioned Buonaventuri, became desperately enamoured with; the violence of his passion, by the frequent opportunities their near neighbourhood gave them of seeing each other, in time found means to discover itself to his mistress; who believing him the master, or at least the partner of that great bank, began to regard with some attention the attractive graces of his person and manner, till this new reciprocal love augmenting every day, became sanctified at length by a private marriage, followed by many secret meetings, with the knowledge only of an old matron, governess to the lady, who had been both confidant and mediatrix throughout the whole affair.
Thus for some time did the lovers continue their intercourse; the bride going every night to her husband’s apartment, which being on the ground floor, she could easily pass from her father’s house and return to it unobserved, being but four paces distant from that of the Salviati. Her method was, when she came out, to leave the dor unlocked; so that returning early, she was received by her governess, before the rest of the family was stirring; but one unlucky morning, the baker coming sooner than usual, to tell the servants it was time to make the bread, and being answered, they were about it, he perceived the lock of the door was open, and thinking it was proper to fallen it, he did so, before he went away, as the young lady found to her great surprize and grief, when having taken leave of her husband, (who accompanied her to the door of his master’s house) she returned home; whereupon not knowing from whence this accident could happen, trembling like a leaf, and half dead with fear, she went back to her lover, who endeavoured to comfort her as well as he could, and went himself into the street, making signs, whistling, and calling to the old confidant; yet all his endeavours were to no purpose, and unable to make himself heard, without a thorough discovery, he came back to his wife; when now the day was so far advanced, that it left no hopes of concealment for these unfortunate lovers, who were sure to die by the rage of her relations, if once their affair was known. As the last remedy they resolved on flight; he taking what little money and cloaths the shortness of time would permit him to get together, and she having only a thin taffata robe over her shift, (it being the height of summer) they hastily embarked on board a vessel, and in the most secret manner that was possible, pursued their journey till they arrived at Florence, where they came to the house of Pietro’s father, which stood in the place of St. Mark, not far from the church of the Annunciation. The elder Buonaventuri, though a citizen, was in so low a degree of fortune, that these two being added to his family, he could no otherwise maintain them, than by turning off his only servant, in whose place the poor young lady was obliged to do all those offices, that in her former state, many had been kept to do for her: and the old man being informed by his son, that she was his wife, and his own being grown in years, and very peevish, he entrusted her with the management of the household likewise: all which she performed for many months, with great patience and alacrity.
The flight of the two lovers was no sooner discovered at Venice, than the father and relations of Bianca, furious with indignation, and great in power, caused an edict to be published, by which, whoever should kill them in any country, was entitled to a large sum of money. This cruel order coming to the ears of the fugitive pair, gave them great apprehensions; and the young lady never suffered herself to be seen, but stayed always at home, employing herself in the affairs of her family.
Whilst they remained in this miserable situation, it happened one day, that the grand Duke Francisco, son of Cosmo the first, was passing in his coach under the window. Bianca having a curiosity to see him, lifted up the lattice, in order to have a better view; and he chancing at the same time to turn his face that way, their eyes met; which was no sooner perceived by her, than she immediately let down the lattice and retired; but the grand duke, unsatisfied with so momentary a view, kept his head still out of the coach, turn’d, though in vain, towards the window.
This hasty, and unthought of encounter, created in the mind of Francisco a restless desire to know who she was, and every particular concerning her; which once known, produced so tender a pity in his heart, that it made him more than an equal sharer in all her misfortunes; and increased so much his curiosity again to see her, that he either went every day to a house of his, in that quarter of the town, called the Casino, or to hear mass, either at the Annunciation, or St. Mark’s, in hopes to procure another sight of her; but all this only served to make him more eager, for a nearer and longer view; and, in order to attain his wish, he made it known to a Spanish gentleman, named Mandragone, who in his infancy had been placed about him by his father, and who, ever attentive to the desires of his master, readily undertook the enterprize; and that it might succeed the better, engaged his wife to form an intimacy with the old woman, mother of Bianca’s husband, instructing her in what manner she should bring it about.
In observance to his orders, she placed herself next to her at church, where, according to the custom too much in use, they soon began to enter into discourse, in which the Spanish lady having artfully brought it about, to ask if her son Pietro was married?
She answered, Yes, madam, but very unfortunately; and then proceeded to give her the whole history of what had happened in Venice. When she had finished, Signora Mandragona very compassionately, and with great eagerness, desired she would come one day to her house, and bring her daughter-in law with her, whom, she said, she was extremely desirous to be acquainted with; and should esteem it a happiness to do every thing in her power to serve her.
To this the old woman replied, that it would be very difficult to persuade her daughter, who never went abroad, to come with her; because, added she, our circumstances do not permit us to buy her new cloaths; and at present she has only those which she brought with her; so that she, who still retains a noble soul in all her poverty, will never bear to be exposed. This, replied the Spaniard, I can easily find a remedy for: I will send her a suit of mine, and in those she need not fear being known.
I do not know, says the good old mother, whether she will consent without the leave of her husband: however, I will do all I can to obey you; but I fear I shall not be able to bring it about; for she chuses retirement, and is desirous to avoid the [Page 350]sight of every one; so that though my son has often spoke to her to go with me to hear mass at St. Mark’s, she never could be prevailed on to do it; insomuch, that from the blessed hour in which she entered our house, to this time, she has never stirred out of it.
Try all your power, I desire, said the Spanish lady, to bring her with you; and I will send my coach to fetch you both. Tell her too, that my friendship will be not disagreeable to her; but, on the contrary, perhaps may do her some service. The good old woman concluded the conversation with reiterated promises, to use her utmost endeavours to make her daughter comply with the obliging request, and so they parted.
As soon as she was got home, she began to discourse with her daughter-in-law, telling her exactly what had passed between the Spaniard and herself; to which she added, this lady, my child, is wife to the chief favourite of the great duke; therefore her friendship is no indifferent thing: the intercession of her husband being the most likely means to gain you the protection or safe-conduct that you here so earnestly desired, and by which you may live in Florence free from the persecution of your relations, who, as you say, endeavour by all the methods they can use, to get you into their hands.
When the poor young creature heard her talk of the safe-conduct, though she had no inclination to go abroad any more to know, than to be known by others; yet, moved with the hopes of security, she yielded, provided her husband gave his consent, who that very night she consulted upon it; and he, that no less than herself stood in need of protection, judging that by this lady it would be easily obtained, (being sensible how great her husband’s interest was with the prince,) told her, she should go; which leave having informed her mother-in-law of, she immediately sent word to Signora Mandragona, that when it was convenient for her to send her coach for them, they would be ready to attend her. Accordingly it soon came, into which the two ladies entering, shut themselves up close, and in that manner arrived at the palace of the Spanish lady, where they were received with many caresses and great joy; and being conducted into a most magnificent and beautiful apartment, they discoursed together on several subjects; and upon that of the safe-conduct, the Spaniard did not fail to offer all the power and interest she was mistress of with her husband to obtain it.
In the midst of their conversation, entered (as by chance,) the master of the house, who, after having bowed to the ladies, seemed not to know who they were; and turning to his wife, asked her? These, said me, are persons who are in want of your interest with your master; and then pretending to inform him, in few words, of the Venetian lady’s story, which he knew better than herself, she concluded with an earnest desire, that he would intercede in her behalf to the grand duke, who from another room heard and saw every thing that passed.
All the time the Spanish lady was speaking to her husband, Bianca remained silent, with her eyes cast down, and full of tears, that pleaded more in her favour than all the eloquence of Cicero could have done: so that Mandragone, having heard his wife out, turning to the Venetian lady, said, ‘What you desire, Madam, is a very trifling service in respect of many greater I shall be proud to do you, and can without the least difficulty. The grand duke, my master, being a prince so generous and benign, that he knows not how to deny any one, provided the request be just, much more such a lady as you, being obliged, not only by his natural inclination to goodness, but also by the laws of knighthood, to succour the distressed: be assured then, that your desires will be accomplished.’ And so saying, he took his leave, and went away.
[To be continued.]
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