demeanour of such invincible awkwardness. He sa luted Sivan, however, with all the courtesy he could command. "Reverend signor," he said, "I have the orders of my most gracious and reverend lord to escort you, at your leisure, to the lodging that hath been made ready for you, and see that in all respects fitting attendance is provided. Two of my troop have been already appointed by me to wait more particularly on your pleasure; and a gallant palfrey is set apart for your use, which, I doubt not, considering your years, you will prefer to the ambling pace of the mules, which convey the more elderly of the brethren. If there be aught else wherein I can serve you, it will be my happiness to do so." "I thank you, gallant sir," replied Sivan with equal urbanity; "and as the night wears, and I have business to discharge ere our departure to-morrow, I will, under your favour, at once accompany you. Might I inquire," he pursued, as they quitted the convent, "what may be the hour at which we are to set out to-morrow ?" "An hour after sunrise," replied Von Happenburgh; "let me add, if your inquiry be connected with your brother, that he has already been apprised that you are on the eve of quitting Florence, and that in the morning, at five of the clock, he will be admitted to your presence to bid you farewell." Sivan again expressed his thanks for the information, and shortly afterwards they reached the mansion where the nuncio's train was quartered. It will readily be imagined that the night which ensued brought but little repose to the reluctant traveller. In the morning, wearied and depressed, he stepped out into the courtyard where Luigi was already awaiting him. It was a mournful interview to both. Over and above the bitterness of parting from each other, each had his own special cause for sadness. Sivan retained a painful impression of the conversation he had held with Father Justin, and was also haunted by an uneasy feeling that he was about to mix in scenes which would prove distasteful to his feelings, if not repugnant to his sense of right. Luigi, on the other hand, was keenly alive to the dishonour with which his beloved Father Girolamo had been treated, and to the great peril which he could not disguise from himself, might be impending over his head. They could do little but mingle their tears, and promise to pray for each other's welfare. "As soon as I am quit of this painful duty, my Luigi," said Sivan, "my first thought will be of thee and Father Justin. Thou must live in hope that I shall prevail in argument over this Conrad Biorno, the heretic whom I told thee of, and then my return may haply soon follow." "And thou must hope, Leonardo," said Luigi," that Father Girolamo may speedily triumph over his enemies, and then I shall be at liberty to seek thee. I cannot leave my more than father while this trouble is on him, but that once past, I will not fail to follow thee. But see, thou art summoned. Farewell, once more, my brother." They again embraced, and then Sivan mounting the steed which one of the men-at-arms was holding, rode forth in the rear of the cavalcade. "May I pray you, fair sir," said Ulric, as reining his war-horse by the side of Sivan's palfrey, he passed the gates of Florence, "whether you can inform me how the heretic is called, with whom the disputation is to be held, on your arrival at Turin? Unless mine ears deceived me, methought I caught, just now, the name of an old acquaintance." "Father Ludovico mentioned it to me yesterday," replied Sivan; "it is, if I mistake not, Biorno." An expression of hatred and anger darkened Ulric's face. "I was not mistaken, then!" he muttered, "and his Christian name-was it not Arnold ?" "No," said Sivan, "I recollect distinctly that it was not. It was Conrad, not Arnold." "Ha! No matter, if it is not the slave himself, it is his father. He or his-it is all one! Let us see if the debt that has so long been due, shall not now be cancelled!" CHAPTER XVI. And she that ever through her home had moved, HEMANS. A LARGE Concourse was gathered in the open space before the convent of San Giovanni, the principal Dominican establishment at Turin. It consisted partly of the trains of various dignitaries of Church and State, partly of monks and townspeople. So high had been Father Justin's commendations of his pupil's learning and powers of argument, that the Archbishop of Turin had invited all the chief nobility of the surrounding country, together with the civil and ecclesiastical functionaries in Turin, to attend the disputation held that day between Leonardo di Sivori, on the side of the Church, and Conrad Biorno, one of the most reputed among the barbs of the Valdesi; in full confidence that the side to which he belonged, would gain a decisive victory. The disputation itself had been delayed several months later than was originally intended, partly owing to the absence of the archbishop, partly to the severe illness of Biorno, from which he had only lately recovered. This circumstance, together with the high estimation in which both the champions were held by their respective parties, had attracted an unusual amount of attention. On the day appointed, therefore, nearly all who had been invited by the archbishop, attended the summons; and the great hall of the convent was thronged not only with ecclesiastics, but with knights and nobles, and even ladies of high rank, so as to render it difficult to find accommodation for all. The interest felt in the controversy may surprise us of the present day; to whom such an occasion would probably hold out but little inducement to attend. But the surprise will vanish when we remember, that in those days, theology was not only a topic of religious, but political importance; and men had, comparatively speaking, but few opportunities of hearing it powerfully handled. It excited no man's wonder, therefore, to behold the gallant muster of retainers, richly dressed and armed to the teeth, for those were days when men rarely laid their armour aside, which was assembled near the great gate of the convent. It was a gay and imposing spectacle. Banners of every device waved over-head; armour glittered and rang; rich scarfs and surcoats relieved and blended gaily with one another; pages in every variety of fancy costume were continually passing in and out of the building. A little farther off the more sober garb of the monks and townsfolk formed a dark frame to this brilliant picture. A closer examination also of the several elements that made up the motley assemblage conveyed a strange impression to the spectator. Men-at-arms of all ages and countries were found mingled curiously together. |