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This work was written in the form of a letter to Virginio Cesarini, a member of the Lyncæan Academy, and master of the chamber to Urban VIII., who had just ascended the papal throne. It was dedicated to the Pontiff himself, and has been long celebrated among literary men for the beauty of its language, though it is doubtless one of the least important of Galileo's writings.
"Then mark me, Cesarini; if to-morrow Lady Florence be worse, I will throw no obstacle in the way of your confession, should you resolve to make it; I will even use that influence which you leave me, to palliate your offence, to win your pardon. And yet to resign your hopes to surrender one so loved to the arms of one so hated it is magnanimous it is noble it is above my standard! Do as you will."
Cesarini knew not the writing of the address; his pride was deeply wounded. Amidst all his penury, he had not even applied to his own sister. Could it come from her, from De Montaigne? He was lost in conjecture. He put the remittance aside for a few days; for he had something fine in him, the poor poet! but bills grew pressing, and necessity hath no law.
Cesarini was envious of the greater affluence of Maltravers. His own fortune was in a small capital of eight or nine thousand pounds: but, thrown in the midst of the wealthiest society in Europe, he could not bear to sacrifice a single claim upon its esteem.
* Deep in her inmost heart is stirred the immense shame, and madness with commingled grief, and love agitated by rage, and conscious virtue. THE next day, punctual to his appointment, Cesarini repaired to his critical interview with Lady Florence.
Cesarini was about to reply, when a servant on horseback abruptly turned the corner, almost at full speed. He pulled in his eye fell upon Lumley he dismounted. "Oh, Mr. Ferrers," said the man breathlessly, "I have been to your house; they told me I might find you at Lord Saxingham's I was just going there " "Well, well, what is the matter?" "My poor master, sir my lord, I mean " "What of him?"
"Ay, by Pollux," said the friar, with a chuckle; "I blistered him with a single touch of 'Socratic interrogation. What modern can parry the weapons of antiquity." One afternoon, when Gerard had finished his day's work, a fine lackey came and demanded his attendance at the Palace Cesarini. He went, and was ushered into a noble apartment; there was a girl seated in it, working on a tapestry.
Cesarini wondered and hesitated, but there was that about Lumley Ferrers which had already obtained command over the weak and passionate poet.
I wish you a good day, and health to enjoy your reputation." "Why, Cesarini, this is folly." "Sir " "Yes, it is folly; for there is no folly equal to that of throwing away friendship in a world where friendship is so rare. You insinuate that I am to blame for any neglect which your work experienced.
Cesarini had therefore grown prodigiously conceited swore that England was the only country for true merit; and no longer concealed his jealous anger at the wider celebrity of Maltravers. Ernest saw him squandering away his substance, and prostituting his talents to drawing-room trifles, with a compassionate sigh.
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