THE GLEE-SINGERS;1

OR,

THE GUELPHS AND GHIBELLINES.

CHAPTER XVI.

The web is wove, the work is done.

Gray's Bard.

AT length the large nuptial banner was finished. On the day of its completion there was a large assembly of noble Florentines of both sexes at the Palazzo Gondi. As soon as the Signora Gondi announced that the task was done, two attendants came forward, took the work from its frame, and, standing on a table, held it up to view. All rose from their seats; the ladies, presenting their hands to each other, bent with a gesture of salute and thanks for their mutual assistance, and the young Cavalieri, holding their caps in their hands, raised their clear sweet-toned voices in a general "Viva!" which, though loud and animated, was still very unlike the stout-lunged roar of a British cheer.

Buondelmonte, easily excited, was gratified for the moment, and smiled, and sent round a glance of pleased acknowledgment; but his eye fell upon Imma, who, sheltered behind her mother from all observation but his, stood pale as ashes, with drooping head, quivering lips, and eyes filled with tears. A light broke upon his mind, and a revulsion of feeling which he could not control shook his spirit. Without uttering a word he precipitately quitted the room and hurried home.

Some of the Florentines were astonished, others looked wise and laughed.

"Oibo!" said one young man, "why, Messer Giovanni is as modest as a young lady on the approach of marriage. See how he has fled from beholding the signs and tokens of such a nervous event."

"I hope he will wear a veil on his wedding-day," said another. "Oh, no!" laughed a third, "he can hide his blushes behind the folds of the banner."

"Now you are all wrong," said Uberti, "it is love, not modesty that has hurried him away. He flies to be the first to tell his lady-love of the completion of the banner, and to press for an early day to seal his happiness."

1 Continued from page 173.

"Evviva, Uberti!" cried the young men, that is a more gallant suggestion than ours, and we accept it as more worthy of a Florentine."

The assembly broke up, and the streets of the city were enlivened by the numerous gay groups passing cheerily to their palaces.

Buondelmonte had gone home to compose himself. He now suspected the interest he had awakened in Imma's bosom: his self-love was gratified, but his honourable feelings were grieved. For himself the die was cast; inclination must yield to duty: for Imma . . . but he thought "She is young: time and reason and her own integrity will obliterate a hopeless love for the husband of another." But with the instinctive jealousy of a lover, he would not whisper to himself that the impression he had made might be effaced by another amid the crowd of admirers her beauty could not fail to attract. "I must," thought he, “hasten to fulfil my destiny with the best grace I may. Of what use is my delay but to increase my trouble? I must go to the Palazzo Amidei and make many happy by deceiving them. How miserable would Amidea be if she knew that my heart rejected herhow pained my kinsmen if they guessed my repugnance to the lot they have cast for me!"

Then he fell into a train of reflections more grave than were usual with him; reflections that were the offspring of his sorrow and dissatisfaction. He whispered to himself: "How radically false this world must be when delusion is so requisite to happiness, and the knowledge of realities so subversive of it! It is necessary to our very existence to live on in the delusions of hope: it is necessary to our self-complacency to believe in the conventional civilities of acquaintances, and the unvarying affection of friends. How humiliated we should feel if we knew how often we are irksome even to true friends: how often the service which we think is kindly and voluntarily done for us, is wrung from some ungratifying motive: how often thoughts of blame and of transient estrangement flit across the minds of even those who love us as perfectly as imperfect human hearts can love. We are happy children, and even sensible children, while we are amused and satisfied with toys-the wooden dog that pretends to bark, or the painted bird that seems to sing. And we are foolish children when we break our toys to pieces (thus losing the future enjoyment of them), to try and find out of what they are made. Delusion is so necessary to earthly happiness, that with the instinct of nature men seek after it. Why do we love poetry, pictures, tales of fiction? Because they are delusions. Truth, indeed, has in all times some faithful followers, else we should forget the very name of truth-but these are almost always martyrs in body or in spirit. What an inducement to fix our minds on that better

sphere where alone truth unveiled, in the full revelation of her holy beauty, can be wedded indissolubly to happiness!"

Buondelmonte's mood was more serious than it had ever been before, and it was with some difficulty that he exerted himself to rise from his couch and mount his favourite white horse; and feeling very much like a martyr to the peace of his country, he set out for the Palazzo Amidei.

There he found assembled the heads of the family Amidei, with Uberti, Lamberti, and Fifanti, Amidea and Padre Severino, and also some of the Buondelmonti, who had courteously gone to an nounce the completion of the banner.

ner.

Buondelmonte entered with a flushed brow and a hurried manHe exhibited the signs of a man in love; and to whose influence could Amidea attribute it but her own, when he had taken such pains to play the lover to her? The Amidei were flattered by his apparent inclinations; the Buondelmonte were gratified that they had not made for their kinsman the altar of Hymen an altar of sacrifice. All were happy in their delusions— all but Buondelmonte, for he alone knew the reality.

The marriage was fixed for the ensuing Thursday, and Buondelmonte compelled himself to say as much as could be reasonably expected from him on the occasion. Amidea mentioned to him apart her intention of requesting Imma Donati to attend her as bridesmaid; for," said she, "my other bridesmaid and cousin, Francesca Uberti, is a Ghibelline, and it is but right, in this union of Guelph and Ghibelline, to choose my bridesmaids one from each party."

Amidea was now speaking from the influence of an impression to this effect formerly made on her by the Widow Donati, for her own private reasons. Buondelmonte felt a shock at the idea of seeing Imma on such an occasion and in such a capacity; but he could make no plausible objection, and he assented with an apparent coldness that surprised Amidea.

The party separated, and the news was soon bruited about Florence that Thursday next was to be the important day. The city was filled with a bustle very unlike its usual monotony; for the wedding, being one of public interest, was one of public participation. Many and mighty were the preparations to be made among all classes to do honour to Florence in general, to the happy pair in particular, and to each person's own self in especial. Many among the young Guelph and Ghibelline damsels who had suffered their inclinations to stray beyond the pale of their own party, now fluttered with hope that the excellent example about to be set would not be thrown away, but would find many followers; and they were quite prepared to declare the propriety of checking faction feuds, and to give in their adhesion to the principle of "mixed marriages."

Mosca Lamberti, at all events, was resolved to lose no time in working out that principle. He thought the present a most favourable time for his own suit, and said to himself-" Now, while all Florence is ringing with the wedding, and every young signorina has her head full of fine clothes, feasts, gifts, and compliments, each will be wishing it was her own turn to act the principal part in such a pretty pageant, and will be quite ready to marry the first man who offers her an opportunity of doing so. Then away to Imma Donati in the glow of the first excitement. I suppose she would like to play bride as well as the ugliest woman in Florence."

He repaired to the Palazzo Donati fully determined to make his proposals now, and was not to be diverted from his purpose, though the Widow, who was instinctively aware of it, endeavoured to parry it with voluble questions about the approaching event. But Mosca gravely entreated her attention; he described to her the joy of their fellow-citizens at the prospect of a union between the hostile factions; he observed that the joy would be increased, and the peace doubly cemented, by a double union between them; that, admiring the example of a Guelph leader choosing a Ghibelline wife, he, a Ghibelline chief, begged leave to seek in the House of Donati a Guelph bride; he detailed his wealth, his rank, his connections, all the advantages he possessed; and he wound up his speech, as in duty bound, by a profession of the most intense admiration of her beautiful daughter.

The Widow in her reply flattered Mosca on the advantages of a union with him, which, she said, was quite sufficient for the ambition of the Donati. She expressed much gratification at his proposal, and were he (she said) of the Guelph party, there could not be a moment's hesitation as to its reception; but she confessed she rather doubted the success of the experiment now about to be tried in the close union of the opposite factions. She feared that, if not between husband and wife, still between the families on both sides, their different opinions must frequently create causes of contention that would more or less injure the happiness of the married couple.

Mosca combatted her objections, and observed, that the collective wisdom of Florence had decided with a different judgment from hers; to which, however, in all other cases but this he would reverentially defer.

Still La Donati pretended to demur-to be fearful of such a risk for her daughter's peace-again wished (hypocritically) that Mosca had been a Guelph. At length she said,

"Well, Messer Lamberti, allow me at least a little time to see how the experimental union succeeds. Give me one month for observation; it is not too much for a mother to ask on behalf of her only child. Come to me on the day month after your cousin's July, 1845.-VOL. XLIII.—NO. CLXXI.

U

marriage, and I can then, with greater propriety and satisfaction, reply to your flattering proposals."

66 And your daughter meanwhile may be won from me: she is too beautiful to remain unsought."

"My daughter's inclinations are yet disengaged." (She knew she spoke falsely, but she did not blush, for she made a mental reservation that Imma's affections had not been claimed). “I promise you," she added, "that for the time I have named, I will guard you from the dangers of any new rival." (She satisfied her conscience by the use of the word new). "I will go further and say, that I will never give her to any Ghibelline but yourself."

He re

Mosca was obliged to submit with a good grace, and took his leave, not quite certain whether he was satisfied or not. turned to the Palazzo; and retiring to his private apartment, desired a domestic to summon "Piero" to attend him.

Piero entered; his dress was a plain murrey-coloured long gown of camlet, confined by the usual leather belt; and his person bore a strong though coarse resemblance to that of Mosca, who, reclining back in his chair, pointed to a stool, on which Piero sat down with an air that marked he was not on terms of perfect equality with Lamberti, who addressed him, however, in a manner of familiarity.

"Well, Piero, I have made my proposals."

"And how have you sped?" asked Piero.

"Somewhat between yea and nay," replied Mosca: and he detailed what had passed between him and La Donati, and then asked

"Now, what think you, Piero?"

"I think that what the Widow said seems reasonable enough." "But cannot you, Piero, see anything lurking under a woman's reasonable talk? Capperi! I sometimes think you are half a fool, and wonder how we both can be the sons of the same sagacious father, but that indeed, I am the son of the high-born Dama, the noble wife, and you of the lowly Contadina, the credulous mistress; and, like the dog of perfect breed, I have the finer senses, and you, like the mongrel, the less acute."

66

Spare some of your gibes on my birth," said Piero, sullenly. "Either treat me like a brother, since you acknowledge me one, or treat me like an alien, and forget my birth."

"Ay," laughed Mosca, maliciously, "but you know you are only half a brother, half an alien; and I treat you half and half accordingly."

Piero got up to go away.

"Come, come, do not be sulky," said Mosca, changing his tone. "Via, via! sit down again, and do not mind a brother's jest. Do I treat you like an alien when I make you the confi