The Honour of Savelli: A RomanceLevett Yeats, S. (Sidney)
History
The Honour of Savelli: A Romance
Levett Yeats, S. (Sidney)
Italy -- History -- 1492-1559 -- Fiction
The sight of my dead knave brought up an angry wave of hatred in my
heart towards D'Entrangues, and I prayed that I might not die until I
was even with him. So great was the uprising of my anger, that at the
time I bitterly regretted not having seized the opportunity to wound
him, by plainly answering Tremouille's last question. With my rage
against D'Entrangues, there came an almost similar feeling towards
Madame, and I began to accuse her in my heart of being the original
cause of my misfortunes, and of conspiring, by her silence, to set the
seal of my ruin. I did not stop to think that I was ruined already,
and that it mattered little whether Madame allowed me to be silent or
not. I only felt that she had made me pay too great a price for her
reputation, and that she had sacrificed me mercilessly.
When I hastened from the scene of my condemnation, I had no other
idea but of death, of self-destruction rather than life as it would be
now to me; but I put aside all these thoughts for I had to live for
revenge. That would be my first object, and until it was achieved I
would not rest. With this in my mind I gained the St. Clement Gate of
Arezzo, passing through without notice.
Walking down the Via San Dominico, I turned to the right by the
Borgo di San Vito, and here I was recognised and hooted. Pressing
hurriedly forwards, and aided opportunely by the passage of a body of
men-at-arms, coming through the street in a direction opposite to that
of my followers, I succeeded in shaking off my tormentors, and turning
again to the right up a narrow street, entered a barber's shop to have
my beard removed in order to disguise myself as far as possible. The
barber, a fussy little fellow, placed me before a mirror of polished
steel, and as he set to work stropping a razor on the palm of his
hand, I removed my cap, and for the first time observed that the hair
of my head was thickly streaked with grey.
"Your excellency has doubtless come to join the army," said the barber
in a tone of inquiry as he drew his razor across my face.
"Ah, yes, yes; I have just come," I replied, and the little man went
on--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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