Arrived at the door of the house, Don Juan found Don Lorenzo, who, coming towards him, said, “I entreat your Lordship”—­for such is the form of address among Italians—­“I entreat your Lordship to do me the kindness to accompany me to the neighbouring church; I have to speak to you respecting an affair which concerns my life and honour.”

“Very willingly,” replied Don Juan.  “Let us go, Signor, wherever you please.”

They walked side by side to the church, where they seated themselves on a retired bench, so as not to be overheard.  Don Lorenzo was the first to break silence.

“Signor Spaniard,” he said, “I am Lorenzo Bentivoglio; if not of the richest, yet of one of the most important families belonging to this city; and if this seem like boasting of myself, the notoriety of the fact may serve as my excuse for naming it.  I was left an orphan many years since, and to my guardianship was left a sister, so beautiful, that if she were not nearly connected with me, I might perhaps describe her in terms that, while they might seem exaggerated, would yet not by any means do justice to her attractions.  My honour being very dear to me, and she being very young, as well as beautiful, I took all possible care to guard her at all points; but my best precautions have proved vain; the self-will of Cornelia, for that is her name, has rendered all useless.  In a word, and not to weary you—­for this story might become a long one,—­I will but tell you, that the Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso d’Este, vanquishing the eyes of Argus by those of a lynx, has rendered all my cares vain, by carrying off my sister last night from the house of one of our kindred; and it is even said that she has already become a mother.

“The misfortune of our house was made known to me last night, and I instantly placed myself on the watch; nay, I met and even attacked Alfonso, sword in hand; but he was succoured in good time by some angel, who would not permit me to efface in his blood the stain he has put upon me.  My relation has told me, (and it is from her I have heard all,) that the duke deluded my sister, under a promise to make her his wife; but this I do not believe, for, in respect to present station and wealth, the marriage would not be equal, although, in point of blood, all the world knows how noble are the Bentivogli of Bologna.  What I fear is, that the duke has done, what is but too easy when a great and powerful Prince desires to win a timid and retiring girl:  he has merely called her by the tender name of wife, and made her believe that certain considerations have prevented him from marrying her at once,—­a plausible pretence, but false and perfidious.