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Updated: June 7, 2025
Maltravers thought it a bad sign, but he recollected Gil Blas, and prudently refrained from bringing on himself the benevolent wish of "beaucoup de bonheur et un peu, plus de bon gout." When Cesarini had finished his MS., he was anxious to conclude the excursion he longed to be at home, and think over the admiration he had excited.
We know not his internal history; prosperity and power are no signs of happiness, they bring no exemption from care. Be soothed and be ruled, Cesarini. Let the stone once more close over the solemn grave. Turn with me to the future; and let us rather seek to be the judges of ourselves, than the executioners of another." Cesarini listened gloomily, and was about to answer, when
Cesarini, whose madness, when fairly roused, was of the most deadly nature, again raised his weapon, and probably nothing but death could have separated the foes; but again the bay of the dog was heard, and Cesarini, answering the sound by a wild yell, threw down the brand, and fled away through the forest with inconceivable swiftness.
These men were Marcantonio Colonna and his kinsman Giuliano Cesarini, and a Salviati, and a Torres and Gianbattista Bernardi, who had all suffered much at the hands of the Pope and had come swiftly to Rome when they heard that he was near death.
Pure and lofty as he thought himself, it was her birth and her wealth which Cesarini adored in Florence. And Florence Lascelles, when the crowd had dispersed and she sought her chamber, forgot all three; and with that morbid romance often peculiar to those for whom Fate smiles the most, mused over the ideal image of the one she could love "in maiden meditation not fancy-free!"
"Ah, say not wit," said Cesarini; "wit is incompatible with the grave character of deep feelings; incompatible with enthusiasm, with worship; incompatible with the thoughts that wait upon Lady Florence Lascelles."
And he went into the outer shop, and returned with a volume of Bulwer's "Ernest Maltravers." "What! are you a novel reader, Mr. Mackaye?" "How do ye ken what I may ha' thocht gude to read in my time? Yell be pleased the noo to sit down an' begin at that page an read, mark, learn, an' inwardly digest, the history of Castruccio Cesarini an' the gude God gie ye grace to lay the same to heart."
Cesarini, whose madness, when fairly roused, was of the most deadly nature, again raised his weapon, and probably nothing but death could have separated the foes; but again the bay of the dog was heard, and Cesarini, answering the sound by a wild yell, threw down the brand, and fled away through the forest with inconceivable swiftness.
"And what Prince or Potentate, King or Kaiser," cried Cesarini, catching the quick contagion of the fit that had seized his comrade, "can dictate to the monarch of Earth and Air, the Elements and the music-breathing Stars? I am Cesarini the Bard! and the huntsman Orion halts in his chase above to listen to my lyre!
The soldier sprang at the throat of Cesarini; but the Italian, at the same instant, caught a half-burned brand from the fire, and dashed the blazing end in the face of his assailant. The soldier uttered a cry of pain, and recoiled back, blinded and dismayed.
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