Night fell,and from the Molo to the Mergellina,from the Capuano Castle to the hill of St.Elmo,deep silence had succeeded the myriad sounds that go up from the noisiest city in the world.Charles of Durazzo,quickly walking away from the square of the Correggi,first casting one last look of vengeance at the Castel Nuovo,plunged into the labyrinth of dark streets that twist and turn,cross and recross one another,in this ancient city,and after a quarter of an hour's walking,that was first slow,then very rapid,arrived at his ducal palace near the church of San Giovanni al Mare.He gave certain instructions in a harsh,peremptory tone to a page who took his sword and cloak.Then Charles shut himself into his room,without going up to see his poor mother,who was weeping,sad and solitary over her son's ingratitude,and like every other mother taking her revenge by praying God to bless him.
The Duke of Durazzo walked up and down his room several times like a lion in a cage,counting the minutes in a fever of impatience,and was on the point of summoning a servant and renewing his commands,when two dull raps on the door informed him that the person he was waiting for had arrived.He opened at once,and a man of about.fifty,dressed in black from head to foot,entered,humbly bowing,and carefully shut the door behind him.Charles threw himself into an easy-chair,and gazing fixedly at the man who stood before him,his eyes on the ground and his arms crossed upon his breast in an attitude of the deepest respect and blind obedience,he said slowly,as though weighing each word--"Master Nicholas of Melazzo,have you any remembrance left of the services I once rendered you?"The man to whom these words were addressed trembled in every limb,as if he heard the voice of Satan come to claim his soul;then lifting a look of terror to his questioner's face,he asked in a voice of gloom--"What have I done,my lord,to deserve this reproach?""It is not a reproach:I ask a ****** question.""Can my lord doubt for a moment of my eternal gratitude?Can Iforget the favours your Excellency showed me?Even if I could so lose my reason and my memory,are not my wife and son ever here to remind me that to you we owe all our life,our honour,and our fortune?I was guilty of an infamous act,"said the notary,lowering his voice,"a crime that would not only have brought upon my head the penalty of death,but which meant the confiscation of my goods,the ruin of my family,poverty and shame for my only son--that very son,sire,for whom I,miserable wretch,had wished to ensure a brilliant future by means of my frightful crime:you had in your hands the proofs of this!
"I have them still."
"And you will not ruin me,my lord,"resumed the notary,trembling;"I am at,your feet,your Excellency;take my life and I will die in torment without a murmur,but save my son since you have been so merciful as to spare him till now;have pity on his mother;my lord,have pity!""Be assured,"said Charles,signing to him to rise;"it is nothing to do with your life;that will come later,perhaps.What I wish to ask of you now is a much ******r,easier matter.""My lord,I await your command."
"First,"said the duke,in a voice of playful irony,"you must draw up a formal contract of my marriage.""At once,your Excellency."
"You are to write in the first article that my wife brings me as dowry the county of Alba,the jurisdiction of Grati and Giordano,with all castles,fiefs,and lands dependent thereto.""But,my lord--"replied the poor notary,greatly embarrassed.
"Do you find any difficulty,Master Nicholas?""God forbid,your Excellency,but--"
"Well,what is it?"
"Because,if my lord will permit because there is only one person in Naples who possesses that dowry your Excellency mentions.""And so?"
"And she,"stammered the notary,embarrassed more and more,--"she is the queen's sister.""And in the contract you will write the name of Marie of Anjou.""But the young maiden,"replied Nicholas timidly,"whom your Excellency would marry is destined,I thought,under the will of our late king of blessed memory,to become the wife of the King of Hungary or else of the grandson of the King of France.""Ah,I understand your surprise:you may learn from this that an uncle's intentions are not always the same as his nephew's.""In that case,sire,if I dared--if my lord would deign to give me leave--if I had an opinion I might give,I would humbly entreat your Excellency to reflect that this would mean the abduction of a minor.""Since when did you learn to be scrupulous,Master Nicholas?"These words were uttered with a glance so terrible that the poor notary was crushed,and had hardly the strength to reply--"In an hour the contract will be ready."
"Good:we agree as to the first point,"continued Charles,resuming his natural tone of voice."You now will hear my second charge.You have known the Duke of Calabria's valet for the last two years pretty intimately?""Tommaso Pace;why,he is my best friend."
"Excellent.Listen,and remember that on your discretion the safety or ruin of your family depends.A plot will soon be on foot gainst the queen's husband;the conspirators no doubt will gain over Andre's valet,the man you call your best friend;never leave him for an instant,try to be his shadow;day by day and hour by hour come to me and report the progress of the plot,the names of the plotters.""Is this all your Excellency's command?"
"All."
The notary respectfully bowed,and withdrew to put the orders at once into execution.Charles spent the rest of that night writing to his uncle the Cardinal de Perigord,one of the most influential prelates at the court of Avignon.He begged him before all things to use his authority so as to prevent Pope Clement from signing the bull that would sanction Andre's coronation,and he ended his letter by earnestly entreating his uncle to win the pope's consent to his marriage with the queen's sister.