CHAPTER X.

How the two damsels set out on their land voyage.

At the door of their house he was met by the Count Alessandro de Vinciguerra, who greeted him respectfully, though with discontent, as usual, in his countenance, saying, that he had just then taken leave of the two ladies, and was about to depart. Sir Folko looked at him for a time in silence, then offered him his hand, and said kindly, “My lord count, we part however in peace and friendship?” “Doubtless,” answered Vinciguerra, taking, with cold politeness, the hand thus offered; “I cherish all due respect for your knightly prowess and courtesy, an assurance, however, which may be needless; for had it not been so, neither I, nor any one of my race, would have been wanting in courage to say at once, whether he had any cause for displeasure.” “Without doubt,” answered Sir Folko; “and it is to be understood also, that no one of your house, or of any other, can or dare to think otherwise than you now do, of De Montfaucon. But I had hoped that our parting would have been on terms more friendly.” “Forgive me,” answered the Italian, with a smile almost of scorn on his features; “doubtless I should be honoured by such friendship; but, to say the truth, it seems to me as if you bore a certain resemblance to the young German knight, who, at your banquet-table, was pleased one day to preach me a moral discourse on my story of Donatello, and the wife of old Dimetri. Methinks you are both somewhat over-given to preaching and converting, of which you failed not to afford some proofs when we were together on board ship. In order that such lessons might not be renewed at this time, I have thought fit to take leave after my own manner.” “Alas, for the unruly heart!” said De Montfaucon, “wherein every rash word is thus nourished, till it takes root, and grows like a spreading weed. Gladly would I have plucked it forth by friendly persuasions.” “Even for this very reason--,” said Vinciguerra, bowing as he retreated. “Heaven knows, my lord count, I am truly sorry,” said De Montfaucon, in a tone of such earnest sympathy and kindness, that the Italian, instead of being able to keep up his dignity and indifference, as he intended, was visibly confused. He blushed deeply, and walked hastily away towards the harbour.

With the ladies Sir Folko now found Don Hernandez, who also, after his grave and solemn manner, took leave; having found a larger ship at Genoa, for which he had exchanged his own galley, and now thought of sailing to Barcelona, in order that he might again join the ranks of his brave countrymen in their war against the Moors. “This then is the day of farewell and separation?” said De Montfaucon, sighing half mournfully and half in anger. “Of separations truly,” said Don Hernandez, “but not, as I hope, for ever. Full well do I know, that if in Castile we should ever need foreign aid, no where could we look for it with such confidence as from the brave and powerful Sir Folko, over whose deeds the Moorish brides are yet lamenting;--but if we should never meet again, at least we must often hear tidings of each other. Both are called in different directions, each by his own duties, and the star that rules his destiny; but the golden bands of love and honour, by which all knighthood is intwined, cannot be broken, and, even though absent, we are not disunited.”

The heroes embraced and parted. Thereafter Sir Folko was not displeased to hear that the damsels were willing to leave Genoa, (where the prospect, amid the commencing storms of autumn, was gloomy both by land and sea,) and to proceed to the beautiful town of Milan. Not merely obeying their wishes as a courteous knight ought to do, but rejoicing in his heart to leave a place, which, by Theobaldo’s strange conduct and the parting with Hernandez and Vinciguerra, had been rendered disagreeable, he made preparations for the journey, and ere long he had set out on horseback with his two beautiful companions, passing through the Bocchetta into the luxuriant plains of Lombardy.