Kitabı oku: «The Constable De Bourbon», sayfa 12
V. THE CONTESSA DI CHIERI
One night, about a week before Bourbon’s entrance into Milan, a lady, young and of surpassing loveliness, was seated alone in the principal saloon of a magnificent palace in the Corso Romano. Her looks and rich attire proclaimed that she belonged to the highest rank. The saloon was sumptuously furnished, and adorned with paintings and sculpture, but it was imperfectly illumined by a couple of tapers placed on the table near which the lady sat. She was the Contessa di Chieri, one of the loveliest women in Italy, and had been married long enough to care little for the count her husband, who lived apart from her at Rome.
After a while, the beautiful countess arose, and, walking to the open casement, stepped out upon a balcony overlooking the Corso, and, leaning upon the cushioned balustrade, gazed around. From this place could be seen the marble roof of the Duomo, rising like a snowy mountain above the tops of the adjoining houses. But no object in particular engaged her fancy. It was pleasant to look forth on such a night and breathe the soft and balmy air. Therefore she lingered for some time on the balcony, and did not think of returning to the saloon.
When the Contessa di Chieri first came out, bands of soldiers were traversing the Corso, but the place was now almost deserted. As the night advanced, its beauty seemed to increase, and the perfect stillness added to the charm. She was gazing at the heavens, trying to penetrate their mysterious depths, when all at once a slight sound recalled her to earth, and, looking down, she beheld a tall cavalier wrapped in a long mantle. At this sight she would instantly have retreated, when her own name, pronounced in accents that were familiar to her, and that made the blood rush to her heart, arrested her.
“‘Tis I, Beata!” cried the cavalier.
“Santa Maria! is it possible? – you here!”
“Hush! not so loud,” rejoined the cavalier, “or yonder patrol will overhear us. Since you recognise me, you will not keep me here.”
“You shall be admitted instantly,” replied the countess. And she disappeared from the balcony.
The cavalier had not to wait long. The gates opening upon the cortile of the palace were closed, but a wicket was presently opened, and a female attendant without saying a word to the cavalier, led him up a grand marble staircase to the saloon where the countess awaited him. As soon as the attendant had retired the cavalier threw off his cloak and hat, and disclosed the noble features and superb person of Bonnivet.
“Ah, what risk you have run to come here!” exclaimed the eountess. “I tremble to think of it. If you should be discovered – ”
“Reassure yourself, dear Beata, I shall not be discovered,” replied Bonnivet, passionately. “Oh, let me gaze at you! Let me satisfy myself that I behold you once more. By Heaven!” he exclaimed, yet more passionately, and pressing her to his bosom, “you look lovelier than ever. Oh, Beata, I would have laid siege to Milan to procure the happiness of this interview. But fortune has been against me, and has baffled all my efforts.”
“And you have quitted the camp to come here?” said the eountess. “You have risked more than life in doing so.”
“But I am now fully repaid,” he rejoined.
“You would persuade me that you love me deeply,” she said.
“Have I not proved my devotion by this act?” he rejoined. “Lovers, they say, are mad, and those who understand not what love is, and have never felt its pains, would deem me mad. Impelled by this madness, or passion – call it what you please – I have left my army to the care of the Comte de Saint-Pol, and have ventured among my enemies. But he who dares much will be rewarded, as I am.”
“How did you contrive to enter the city?” demanded Beata. “I marvel how you could elude the vigilance of the guard.”
“I have a safe-conduct from Giovatini de’ Medici,” replied Bonnivet. “I came hither as Galeazzo Visconti.”
“But your return will be attended with even greater risk,” said Beata. “If you should be captured, I shall never forgive myself, for I shall feel that I have been the cause of the disaster.”
“Have no misgivings, Beata,” said Bonnivet, smiling confidently. “I am not destined to be captured. Do not let us mar the happiness of our brief interview by any thoughts of danger. Let us think only of ourselves – of our love. When we are separated – when I am again with the army, and you are alone in this chamber – we shall regret each moment we have wasted.”
“I would shake off my fears if I could,” said the countess. “But I find it impossible. Had I expected you, it might have been otherwise. But you have taken me so by surprise, that I cannot master my emotion.”
“How could I prepare you for my coming, Beata?” said Bonnivet. “I have long nourished the design, but the means of executing it only occurred to-day, when this safe-conduct fell into my hands. Then I resolved – cost what it might! – that I would behold you again. Mounted on a swift steed, I left Abbiate-Grasso at nightfall, attended only by a single esquire, and I hope to be back at the camp before my absence is discovered.”
“Heaven grant you may!” she ejaculated.
“My steed seemed to know the errand on which he was bent, and bore me on with wondrous speed; but if he sympathises with his master, he will not have the same spirit on his return. It is strange, Beata – now that the long wished-for moment has arrived – now that I am here – I cannot realise my happiness. It seems like a dream.”
“Holy Virgin! what is that?” exclaimed Beata, as the trampling of horses was heard in the Corso.
“Merely the patrol,” replied Bonnivet.
“No; it is not the patrol!” she cried. “The troop has stopped at the gates of the palace. Stay where you are! I will see what it means.”
So saying, she flew to the balcony, and presently returned with a cheek blanched with terror.
“Heaven preserve us!” she exclaimed. “It is the Duke of Milan, with a large escort.”
“The Duke of Milan!” exclaimed Bonnivet. “What can bring him here at this hour?”
As he spoke, a loud knocking was heard at the gate.
“What means this visit?” said Bonnivet.
“I know not,” replied the countess, “unless your arrival at Milan has been discovered.”
“That is impossible. The guard at the Porta Romana allowed me to pass without question, on seeing my safe-conduct.”
“There are spies in your camp, and one of them may have brought information of your departure,” said Beata. “But the duke must not find you here. Conceal yourself,” she added, opening the door of a closet, “and do not venture forth till I release you.”
Scarcely had Bonnivet entered this hiding-place when the Duke of Milan, accompanied by a guard, entered the saloon.
“You must excuse me if I appear abrupt, countess,” he said, glancing suspiciously round the room. “My business does not admit of ceremony. You will believe that I have not come hither on any idle errand.”
“I am curious to learn the meaning of your highness’s visit,” remarked Beata, vainly endeavouring to conceal her agitation.
“I will not keep you in suspense, madame,” replied Sforza. “Where is the cavalier who entered the palace not half an hour ago, and was shown into this room by your attendant, Eufemia?”
“He is lost!” mentally ejaculated the countess, trembling and not knowing what answer to make.
“Where is the Admiral Bonnivet, madame?” said Sforza, advancing towards her. “I know he is in the palace. Where have you hidden him? Confess. I will have him.”
“The cavalier who entered just now, and who has since quitted the palace, was not Bonnivet, but Galeazzo Visconti,” replied the countess.
“I know better, madame,” said Sforza. “To convince you that equivocation is useless, I will tell you what has happened. Little more than an hour ago two well-mounted horsemen arrived at the Porta Romana, and presented a safe-conduct purporting to be for Galeazzo Visconti and his esquire. What was the astonishment of the captain of the guard, while scrutinising the self-styled Visconti – the real Galeazzo being well known to him – to recognise the commander of the French army, the Admiral Bonnivet. He made no remark, however, but allowed the Admiral and his companion to enter the city, feeling it to be of the highest importance to ascertain their design. He therefore followed them with half a dozen men to the Piazza del Duomo, where Bonnivet dismounted, and leaving his horse in charge of his esqrire, marched off, fancying himself unobserved – but the captain of the guard and two soldiers were on his track. They saw him pause before this palace. You, countess, were on the balcony. They heard your lover – for such he must be – exchange a few words with you, after which he was admitted. As soon as this took place, the captain of the guard hastened to the ducal palace to acquaint me with the important discovery he had made. I came hither at once.”
“You have come quickly, duke, but you have come too late,” rejoined Beata. “He you seek is gone.”
“Not so, madame,” rejoined Sforza, smiling incredulously. “The gates have been closely watched ever since the Admiral entered the palace. No one has come forth. Where is he?”.
“If your highness will dismiss your attendants, I will tell you,” she replied.
“Withdraw,” said Sforza to the guard, “but remain outside. Now, madame?” he added, when they were alone.
Before the countess could make any reply the door of the closet opened, and Bonnivet stepped forth.
“Imprudent!” she exclaimed. “You have betrayed yourself.”
“Discovery was certain, madame,” remarked Sforza. “I am obliged to the Lord Admiral for saving me further trouble. My lord, you are my prisoner.”
“Not yet, duke,” rejoined Bonnivet, who did not appear at all uneasy; “I have a proposition to make to your highness, which I think will be agreeable to you. You must be quite certain that I did not come to Milan with any hostile intent.”
“I do not ask the motive of your visit, my lord,” replied Sforza. “It is sufficient that you are here – and my prisoner.”
“Hear me out, duke,” said Bonnivet. “I have to propose an exchange of prisoners.”
“An exchange! – ha! Whom do you offer?”
“Giovanni de’ Medici,” replied Bonnivet.
“Giovanni de’ Medici!” echoed Sforza, in surprise. “I did not know he was a prisoner.”
“I took him this morning,” returned Bonnivet. “Let me return to Abbiate-Grasso, and I will set him free.”
“You underrate yourself, Admiral,” said Sforza. “I shall lose by the exchange.”
“I will add ten thousand ducats,” said Bonnivet.
“Excuse the doubt, my lord; but have you that sum?” demanded Sforza.
“On my faith I have, duke,” replied Bonnivet. “The money ought to be paid to the Swiss – but you shall have it.”
“Then I agree. I am sorry to rob the Swiss,” said Sforza, laughing, “but all is fair in love and war. I give you an hour with your mistress, Admiral. Then you must depart. I will leave a guard at the gate of the palace who will conduct you and your esquire to the Porta Romana. To-morrow I shall expect Giovanni de’ Medici – and the ransom-money. Good night, my lord. I will no longer interrupt your tête-à-tête. You see, fair countess, what a price your lover is willing to pay for an hour of your sweet society.”
With this, Sforza retired and gave the necessary orders, so that Bonnivet was enabled to quit Milan without molestation.
Next morning, Giovanni de’ Medici returned to Milan, and the ransom-money was paid.
VI. HOW BOURBON ASSUMED THE COMMAND OF THE IMPERIAL ARMY
The numerical force of the Imperial army at this juncture was computed at forty thousand men, a large proportion of whom were mercenaries. There were seven thousand Spaniards under Pescara; ten thousand Germans under Lannoy; four thousand Italians under Giovanni de’ Medici; eight hundred lances, and eight hundred light horse, mixed Italians and Spaniards, under various captains. The Venetian army, under the Duke of Urbino, consisted of upwards of six thousand foot, all well armed, and eleven hundred horse. The Pontifical forces, the leadership of which was given to Gonzaga, numbered a thousand men – five hundred infantry and five hundred horse. Besides these, there was a strong garrison at Pavia, under the command of the renowned Antonio de Leyva, consisting of five thousand infantry and eleven hundred horse, and these were subsequently reinforced by the Pontifical troops. Possessed of such an army, led by generals of such valour and experience as Pescara and Lannoy, and now commanded by Bourbon, who was animated as well by the desire of distinction as by the thirst for vengeance, it could scarcely be doubted that success awaited the Imperialists.
On the other hand, though its numbers had been greatly reduced since his entrance into Italy, Bonnivet could still boast a powerful army. Of the thirty thousand men who had descended with him into the fertile plains of Lombardy, scarce twenty thousand were now left; but he was in expectation of large reinforcements from France, and he also counted upon five thousand Grisons under the command of Dietingen de Salis, and eight thousand Swiss. From his position at Abbiate-Grasso, he was able to obtain abundant supplies from the Lomellino.
Such was the relative position of the two armies when Bourbon assumed the command of the Imperial forces.
On his arrival at the camp he was hailed with enthusiasm, and as he rode along the line, followed by his adherents, he was greeted with shouts by soldiers of all countries – Spaniards, Germans, and Italians. This was a proud moment for the illustrious fugitive, and made amends for all the sufferings he had undergone. His breast beat high with ardour, and visions of conquest flitted before his gaze. With such a host at his command, what could he not achieve?
The camp of the Imperialists occupied a large space of ground, but owing to the remarkable flatness of the plain, could only be fully surveyed from the castle of Garlasco, which was situated at its farthest extremity. In this castle Bourbon was lodged, and as he mounted its keep a splendid view was offered him. Not only was the whole of his own army in sight, but, though some leagues off, he could clearly distinguish the French camp at Abbiate-Grasso. In other respects, the prospect was very striking. League upon league of the fertile plains of Lombardy, intersected with rivers and canals, came within his ken. Numberless cities, towns, and villages could be descried. In the extreme distance could be seen Milan, with its Duomo, towers, and churches; Lodi and Pavia were also distinguishable; and the whole course of the Ticino could be traced from the latter city to Abbiate-Grasso. Looking towards the north, Novara and Vercelli – each important places – could be discerned; and nearer were Vigevano and Mortara. Many other towns could likewise be seen, and the Ticino was not the only river visible. Both the Sesia and the Po could be distinguished. Bounding this vast plain on the north rose the enormous barrier of the Alps, foremost amid which stood Monte Rosa, while in the far distance on the west could be discerned the range of the Apennines.
From the walls of Garlasco, Bourbon carefully studied
Bonnivet’s position, and coming to the conclusion that the French general must infallibly surrender, he resolved not to give him battle at once, as he had intended, but to adopt the Fabian policy of Prospero Colonna, and wait.
To Bourbon a camp life was the pleasantest that could be led. No music was so agreeable to his ear as the sound of warlike instruments; no pastime so pleasant as the practice of military manouvres. He did not rest till he had satisfied himself by personal scrutiny that every corps of the army was in good order; and such was his affability, that he soon became popular with the soldiers of each nation. At all hours of the night he made his rounds to see that good watch was kept; and on these occasions he was only attended by the faithful Hugues, whom he still retained in his service. Constant nocturnal skirmishes took place between flying bands of the hostile armies; but without material advantage to either side.
Nearly a month had now elapsed since Bourbon had assumed his command, and already Bonnivet, whose position became daily more perilous, had thrice offered him battle; but Bourbon, with the approval of the other leaders, on each occasion refused to fight. During this interval Bourbon, accompanied by Lannoy, Pescara, and the Duke of Urbino, had repeatedly ridden along the right bank of the Ticino, in order to reconnoitre the French forces; and he had also more than once visited Pavia to consult with Antonio de Leyva and Gonzaga, and see that the garrison was in good order.
VII. HOW BONNIVET RESOLVED TO RETREAT FROM NOVARA
Becoming apprehensive that he should lose his supplies from the Lomellino, whence he chiefly derived them, Bonnivet at length crossed the Ticino with the bulk of his army, placing his vanguard at Vigevano, and the main body of the army at Mortara – a strongly fortified city, and where he could obtain provisions from Montferrat, Vercelli, and Novara.
He did not abandon Abbiate-Grasso, but left a thousand infantry and a hundred horse to guard the place – a very inadequate force, as was speedily shown. Three days afterwards, the town was attacked by Giovanni de’ Medici, assisted by Sforza, with five hundred of the élite of the garrison of Milan. The assault began early in the morning, and was conducted with such extraordinary vigour, that, in spite of a gallant defence, the place was taken before night. Fatal consequences, however, attended this bold achievement. The plague at that time existed at Abbiate-Grasso, and the spoils of the town being carried off by the victors, the scourge was conveyed to Milan, and eventually committed dreadful ravages in that city.
The capture of Abbiate-Grasso was not the only success achieved by the Imperialists. Others followed in rapid succession. Sartirano, an important post occupied by the French, was besieged and taken by Bourbon before Bonnivet could succour it from Mortara. As the Imperialists continued to press upon his right, fearing his supplies might be cut off, he retired to Novara, and established himself there, hoping to be reinforced by the Grisons and Swiss. But he was disappointed. Conducted by Dietingen de Salis, the Grisons got as far as Bergamo, where they ought to have been joined by the Prince Federico da Bozzolo. But he was shut up in Lodi. Harassed by Giovanni de’ Medici, who was sent with a detachment of light horse to drive them back, unable to obtain their promised pay or an escort of cavalry, the Grisons, disgusted and indignant, returned to their native valleys. Having accomplished this task, the active Medici destroyed the bridge at Buffalora, thus enclosing Bonnivet between the Ticino and the Sesia, and liberating Milan from all chance of attack.
Bonnivet was not more fortunate in regard to his Swiss reinforcements than with the Grisons. Eight thousand of these hardy mountaineers made their way to the neighbourhood of Vercelli, on the right bank of the Sesia, in order to effect a junction with the French army at Novara. But the river was swollen and impassable, and the Swiss, having learned that the Grisons had retired, became greatly discontented, and refused to join the French until they first received their pay. In vain Bonnivet sent Captain Diesbach to remonstrate with them. They remained sullen and inflexible, alleging that the French king had broken faith with them, having failed to send the Duc de Longueville with four hundred lances to Ivry to escort them, and now they were denied their pay.
The Admiral’s position had thus become extremely perilous. Deprived of the large reinforcements he had expected, and which alone could enable him successfully to prosecute the campaign; confronted by a hostile army greatly superior to his own in number, and stimulated by constant successes; with his own troops almost decimated by disease and famine; in danger of losing his supplies, owing to the activity of the enemy, his utter defeat or an inglorious surrender seemed inevitable.
Bonnivet determined to retreat, but before putting his design into execution, he summoned the principal leaders of the French army to a council. With the exception of the Maréchal de Montmorency, who had been attacked by the plague, and had already left Novara, they all attended; and the assemblage comprised the Comte de Saint-Pol, the Seigneur de Vandenesse, the Chevalier Bayard, the Vidame de Chartres, De Lorges, Annebaut, Beauvais (surnamed “the Brave”), Renzo da Ceri, and the Swiss captain, Diesbach. All these personages were fully armed, save that they had taken off their helmets and unbuckled their swords, and, as they were grouped around a table placed in the centre of the tent in which they met, they formed a very striking picture.
Conspicuous among them for the richness of his armour, which was damaskeened with gold, and for his splendid person and handsome lineaments, was the Lord Admiral. The Comte de Saint-Pol was also a noble-looking warrior, and gorgeously accoutred. The veteran Vandenesse was cased in black armour, and had a martial and determined aspect. The Vidame de Chartres had a proud and resolute look. Annebaut, De Lorges, and the brave Beauvais were all stalwart captains, whose scarred visages proclaimed the numerous conflicts they had been engaged in. Renzo da Ceri was of slighter frame, and younger than the last-mentioned warriors, and his graceful person, sheathed in lacquered armour, contrasted strongly with the robust frame and rugged physiognomy of the Swiss leader, Diesbach, near whom he sat.
But, although each individual in the group was worthy of notice, the one who would infallibly have fixed the attention of a beholder was the Chevalier Bayard.
Bayard was fashioned in the heroic mould. Above the ordinary height, powerfully built, and possessed of prodigious strength, he wore his ponderous armour, dinted by many a blow, as easily as if it had been a silken doublet. His features corresponded with his frame, being massive and nobly sculptured, generally stern in expression, yet sometimes lighted up by a pleasant smile.
The doughty champion was now approaching fifty, and though his mighty arm had lost none of its power, and his features bore few traces of age, his once raven locks were thickly sown with grey. It had been remarked by his soldiers, by whom he was idolised, that since the affair of Robecco their captain had looked sombre and discontented, and they fancied that the thought of the defeat rankled in his breast.
More than human valour seemed to beat in Bayard’s broad breast – more than human strength appeared to reside in his herculean frame and powerful arm. No danger ever appalled him – nay, his spirit rose with danger, inciting him to deeds worthy of the heroic ages. Such was his conduct at Garigliano, when, wholly unsupported, he defended the bridge against the entire Spanish host, and saved the French army. Besides the inconceivable daring of all his actions, their grandeur made him the central figure in every conflict in which he engaged, and excited the admiration both of friends and foes.
When only eighteen, Bayard followed Charles VIII. into Italy, and won his spurs at the battle of Fornova, where he performed prodigies of valour, and had two horses killed under him. He was several times made prisoner, and more than once grievously wounded, but while free he was ever with the army. Courts he despised, and hence the neglect he experienced from François I., who placed his favourites over his head. But other monarchs appreciated him at his true worth, and after a signal victory which he had gained at Padua, the Emperor Maximilian said to him, in the presence of the whole army, “Chevalier Bayard, the king my brother is happy in having a knight like you. I would I had a dozen such, even though each cost me a hundred thousand florins a year.”
Nor did our own bluff King Hal use less flattering language towards him at the siege of Térouanne. “Were all French captains as valiant as you, Chevalier Bayard,” said Henry, “I must speedily raise the siege of this place.”
Bayard, as is well known, after the famous battle of Marignano, which he himself had helped to win, and where he fought side by side with the Constable de Bourbon, was called upon by the victorious king to dub him knight.
Bayard would have declined the honour, but François insisted, and bent the knee before him. Whereupon Bayard, drawing his sword, and touching the king’s shoulder with the blade, exclaimed:
“Sire, may it be with you as with Roland or Oliver, Godfrey or Baldwin, his brother. Certes, you are the first king that ever I dubbed knight.” Then pressing his lips to the blade, he said, “Happy art thou, my sword, to have performed this office for so brave a monarch! Henceforth, good sword, shalt thou be kept as a holy relic, and honoured above all other weapons!”
But though thus distinguished, Bayard, as we have shown, was afterwards neglected by François I. The bravest and ablest captain in the army; consulted by the leaders on all occasions of difficulty, and adored by the soldiers; far fitter for command than those placed above him, he was never made a general. The only reward he received for his incalculable services was the order of Saint Michel.
Though his loyalty was unshaken by the king’s ingratitude, the appointment of Bonnivet to the supreme command of the Italian army gave Bayard great offence. He could not conquer his dislike of the haughty favourite, and, moreover, entertained but a poor opinion of his military qualities. Nevertheless, he served him well and faithfully. In the unlucky affair of Robecco he fancied Bonnivet had wilfully exposed him to certain defeat, and this he could not forgive.
“I have sent for you, messeigneurs, to ask your advice,” said Bonnivet, glancing round at the assemblage, all of whom looked grave and anxious, “and I entreat you to give it freely. You are all aware of the critical position in which we are placed. You know that we are shut up between two rivers, the Ticino and the Sesia. You know that the army is greatly reduced by famine, sickness, and desertion, and that the enemy, with a force more than double our own in number, is at Cameriano, only two leagues off. You know that we have lost Abbiate-Grasso, and that the bridge over the Ticino at Buffalora has been destroyed by Giovanni de’ Medici. You know that the faithless Grisons have returned to their native valleys with Dietingen de Salis. You know that the eight thousand Swiss, who are at Gattinara, on the opposite bank of the Sesia, have refused to join us. Aware of all these disastrous circumstances, what counsel do you give?”
All were silent, none liking to recommend retreat or surrender. At last Bayard spoke.
“You ask our advice, Lord Admiral,” he said. “Will you be guided by it if we offer it?”
“I cannot pledge myself to that, but I will give your counsel due consideration,” rejoined Bonnivet. “Speak freely.”
“Were I in your place,” said Bayard, “I would compel the enemy to give me battle, and by a grand masterstroke retrieve my former reverses, or perish in the effort.”
“It would be madness,” rejoined Bonnivet. “As I have said, the enemy’s forces are double our own, and in better condition.”
“Then shut yourself up in Novara, and stand a siege. The city is well fortified, and will hold out till we receive reinforcements.”
“I doubt it,” remarked the Comte de Saint-Pol. “Our supplies from the Lomellino will be cut off, and the country around Novara, as you know, has been laid waste.”
“Tête-Dieu! we will get supplies from the foe,” cried Bayard. “Our condition is not so desperate as you suppose. If the enemy are two to one, what matters it?”
“If we were all Bayards it would matter little if they were ten to one,” rejoined Saint-Pol. “But our men are disheartened. Of late, we have had nothing but ill success. You yourself have been worsted.”
“True,” replied Bayard, in a sombre tone, as he thought of the affair of Robecco.
“You have seen your countrymen, Captain Diesbach,” said De Lorges to that officer. “Do they refuse to join us?”
“Absolutely,” replied Diesbach, “unless they receive their pay. They are inflexible. They declare the King of France has broken faith with them in not sending the Duc de Longueville with an escort of cavalry to meet them at Ivry, and that they will not fight for him.”
“Let the vile mercenaries go! We can do without them,” cried Beauvais.
“Mercenaries they may be, but they have good ground of complaint,” rejoined Diesbach, angrily. “They have been brought hither by promises that have not been kept. My own men declare that, unless they receive their pay, they will at once disband, and return with their countrymen who are waiting for them at Gattinara. The Swiss will not fight for mere glory.”
“But you have sufficient influence over your men to quiet their murmurs, and prevent them from disbanding, Captain Diesbach,” said Bonnivet. “Give them the positive assurance from me that they shall be paid – speedily paid.”
“Promises will not content them, my lord,” replied Diesbach. “I must have something in hand.”
“You ask an impossibility, captain,” replied Bonnivet. “My coffers are quite empty.”
“Quite empty!” exclaimed Diesbach. “A month ago you promised me ten thousand ducats.”
“Very true, captain. But the whole of the money is gone. I have had a heavy ransom to pay.”
“Whose ransom, my lord, may I make bold to inquire?” said Diesbach.
“Ask the Duke of Milan,” replied Bonnivet. “My coffers are empty, I repeat. But all arrears shall be fully paid – as soon as I receive the expected supplies from France.”
“I will tell my soldiers what you say, my lord,” returned Diesbach. “But I know what their answer will be. They will laugh in my face, disband, and cross the Sesia to join their comrades. If such should be the case, I must perforce accompany them.”
“I shall not hinder you, captain,” said Bonnivet. “Dissuade them, if you can – if not, adieu!”
