and had forsaken it. Vittoria
committed a public indiscretion on the day when the king left Milan to
its fate: word whereof was conveyed to Carlo Ammiani, and he wrote to
her.

"It is right that I should tell you what I have heard," the letter said.
"I have heard that my bride drove up to the crowned traitor, after he
had unmasked himself, and when he was quitting the Greppi palace, and
that she kissed his hand before the people--poor bleeding people of
Milan! This is what I hear in the Val d'Intelvi:--that she despised
the misery and just anger of the people, and, by virtue of her name and
mine, obtained a way for him. How can she have acted so as to give a
colour to this infamous scandal? True or false, it does not affect my
love for her. Still, my dearest, what shall I say? You keep me divided
in two halves. My heart is out of me; and if I had a will, I think I
should be harsh with you. You are absent from my mother at a time when
we are about to strike another blow. Go to her. It is kindness; it is
charity: I do not say duty. I remember that I did write harshly to you
from Brescia. Then our march was so clear in view that a little thing
ruffled me. Was it a little thing? But to applaud the Traitor now! To
uphold him who has spilt our blood only to hand the country over to the
old gaolers! He lent us his army like a Jew, for huge interest. Can
you not read him? If not, cease, I implore you, to think at all for
yourself.

"Is this a lover's letter? I know that my beloved will see the love in
it. To me your acts are fair and good as the chronicle of a saint. I
find you creating suspicion--almost justifying it in others, and putting
your name in the mouth of a madman who denounces you. I shall not speak
more of him. Remember that my faith in you is unchangeable, and I pray
you to have the same in me.

"I sent you a greeting from the Chief. He marched in the ranks from
Bergamo. I saw him on the line of march strip off his coat to shelter a
young lad from the heavy rain. He is not discouraged; none are who have
been near him.

"Angelo is here, and so is our Agostino; and I assure you he loads and
fires a carbine much more deliberately than he composes a sonnet. I am
afraid that your adored Antonio-Pericles fared badly among our fellows,
but I could gather no particulars.

"Oh! the bright two minutes when I held you right in my heart. That spot
on the Vicentino is alone unclouded. If I live I will have that bit of
g