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Updated: May 7, 2025
He is persuaded that you did not see justice done to his poems, and is coming here as soon as his indolence will let him, to proclaim your treachery in a biting preface to some toothless satire." "Satire!" "Yes; more than one of your poets made their way by a satire, and Cesarini is persuaded he shall do the same. Castruccio is not as far-sighted as his namesake, the Prince of Lucca.
De Montaigne stayed some time with the unhappy man, and sought to soothe him; but it was in vain. Yet when he rose to depart, Cesarini started up, and fixing on him his large wistful eyes, exclaimed, "Ah! do not leave me yet. It is so dreadful to be alone with the dead and the worse than dead!"
His relations were not aware of the influence which Lord Vargrave's name exercised over Cesarini; in the melancholy tale communicated to them by Maltravers, that name had not been mentioned.
Cesarini fell heavily on the floor, mute, senseless, and in strong convulsions. "Mysterious Providence!" murmured Maltravers, "thou hast justly rebuked the mortal for dreaming he might arrogate to himself thy privilege of vengeance. Forgive the sinner, O God, as I do as thou teachest this stubborn heart to forgive as she forgave who is now with thee, a blessed saint in heaven!"
Two days afterwards, Cesarini brought to Ferrers the answer he had received from Maltravers. Lumley had rightly foreseen that the high spirit of Ernest would conceive some indignation at the coquetry of Florence in beguiling the Italian into hopes never to be realised, and that he would express himself openly and warmly. He did so, however, with more gentleness than Lumley had anticipated.
This man had taken a fancy to Cesarini; and, in some hours Cesarini had shunned him less than others, for they could alike rail against all living things. The lunatic approached Cesarini with an air of dignity and condescension. "It is a cold night, sir, and there will be no moon. Has it never occurred to you that the winter is the season for escape?" Cesarini started; the ex-officer continued,
"If I were a /successful/ author, I should be jealous if the dancing-dogs were talked of." "No, my dear Cesarini, I am sure you would not. You are a little irritated at present by natural disappointment; but the man who has as much success as he deserves is never morbidly jealous, even of a rival in his own line. Want of success sours us; but a little sunshine smiles away the vapours.
Signor Cesarini returned their salutations with a mixture of bashfulness and /hauteur/, half-awkward and half-graceful, and muttering some inaudible greeting, sank into a seat and appeared instantly lost in reverie. Maltravers gazed upon him, and was pleased with his aspect which, if not handsome, was strange and peculiar.
The Duke Sforza Cesarini murders one of his servants for some act of personal disrespect. For example's sake, the Pope condemns him to a month's retirement in a convent. Ah! if any sacrilegious hand were laid upon the holy ark; if a priest were to be slain, a Cardinal only threatened, then would there be neither asylum, nor galleys, nor clemency, nor delay.
The Italian, who was talking and gesticulating as to himself, did not perceive them. "Poor Castruccio! he seems leaving his lodging," thought Maltravers. "By this time I fear he will have spent the last sum I conveyed to him I must remember to find him out and replenish his stores. Do not forget," said he aloud, "to see Cesarini, and urge him to accept the appointment we spoke of."
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