Crucial Instances | Page 8

men, 'let
the image be put in place.'
"By this, life seemed to have returned to the Duchess, and she answered
him with a deep reverence. 'That I should be overcome by so
unexpected a grace, your excellency admits to be natural; but what
honors you accord it is my privilege to accept, and I entreat only that in
mercy to my modesty the image be placed in the remotest part of the
chapel.'
"At that the Duke darkened. 'What! You would have this masterpiece

of a renowned chisel, which, I disguise not, cost me the price of a good
vineyard in gold pieces, you would have it thrust out of sight like the
work of a village stonecutter?'
"'It is my semblance, not the sculptor's work, I desire to conceal.'
"'It you are fit for my house, Madam, you are fit for God's, and entitled
to the place of honor in both. Bring the statue forward, you dawdlers!'
he called out to the men.
"The Duchess fell back submissively. 'You are right, sir, as always; but
I would at least have the image stand on the left of the altar, that,
looking up, it may behold your excellency's seat in the tribune.'
"'A pretty thought, Madam, for which I thank you; but I design before
long to put my companion image on the other side of the altar; and the
wife's place, as you know, is at her husband's right hand.'
"'True, my lord--but, again, if my poor presentment is to have the
unmerited honor of kneeling beside yours, why not place both before
the altar, where it is our habit to pray in life?'
"'And where, Madam, should we kneel if they took our places?
Besides,' says the Duke, still speaking very blandly, 'I have a more
particular purpose in placing your image over the entrance to the crypt;
for not only would I thereby mark your special devotion to the blessed
saint who rests there, but, by sealing up the opening in the pavement,
would assure the perpetual preservation of that holy martyr's bones,
which hitherto have been too thoughtlessly exposed to sacrilegious
attempts.'
"'What attempts, my lord?' cries the Duchess. 'No one enters this chapel
without my leave.'
"'So I have understood, and can well believe from what I have learned
of your piety; yet at night a malefactor might break in through a
window, Madam, and your excellency not know it.'

"'I'm a light sleeper,' said the Duchess.
"The Duke looked at her gravely. 'Indeed?' said he. 'A bad sign at your
age. I must see that you are provided with a sleeping-draught.'
"The Duchess's eyes filled. 'You would deprive me, then, of the
consolation of visiting those venerable relics?'
"'I would have you keep eternal guard over them, knowing no one to
whose care they may more fittingly be entrusted.'
"By this the image was brought close to the wooden slab that covered
the entrance to the crypt, when the Duchess, springing forward, placed
herself in the way.
"'Sir, let the statue be put in place to-morrow, and suffer me, to-night,
to say a last prayer beside those holy bones.'
"The Duke stepped instantly to her side. 'Well thought, Madam; I will
go down with you now, and we will pray together.'
"'Sir, your long absences have, alas! given me the habit of solitary
devotion, and I confess that any presence is distracting.'
"'Madam, I accept your rebuke. Hitherto, it is true, the duties of my
station have constrained me to long absences; but henceforward I
remain with you while you live. Shall we go down into the crypt
together?"
"'No; for I fear for your excellency's ague. The air there is excessively
damp.'
"'The more reason you should no longer be exposed to it; and to
prevent the intemperance of your zeal I will at once make the place
inaccessible.'
"The Duchess at this fell on her knees on the slab, weeping excessively
and lifting her hands to heaven.

"'Oh,' she cried, 'you are cruel, sir, to deprive me of access to the sacred
relics that have enabled me to support with resignation the solitude to
which your excellency's duties have condemned me; and if prayer and
meditation give me any authority to pronounce on such matters, suffer
me to warn you, sir, that I fear the blessed Saint Blandina will punish
us for thus abandoning her venerable remains!'
"The Duke at this seemed to pause, for he was a pious man, and my
grandmother thought she saw him exchange a glance with the chaplain;
who, stepping timidly forward, with his eyes on the ground, said,
'There is indeed much wisdom in her excellency's words, but I would
suggest, sir, that her pious wish might be met, and the saint more
conspicuously honored, by transferring the