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waters.
Castruccio found Guinigi sitting at the door of his house; it was a
low-roofed cottage, that seemed more fit for the habitation of a
peasant, than of a man bred in camps and palaces. Guinigi himself
was about forty years of age: the hardships of war had thinned the
locks on his temples before their time, and drawn a few lines in
his face, beaming as it was with benevolence. The sparkling
intelligence of his eye was tempered by gentleness and wisdom; and
the stately mien of the soldier had yielded somewhat to his late
rustic occupations; for, since his exile he had turned his sword to
a ploughshare, and he dwelt with much complacency on the
change.
    As Castruccio first saw him, he was gazing with the most
heartfelt and benevolent pleasure on his boy, a child of seven
years of age, who was busy with the peasants, drawing off wine from
the vats; for it was just the time when the vintage was finished,
and the last labours were bestowed on the crushed grapes. The youth
paused: but for the air of dignity that was visible beneath his
rustic dress, he could not have believed that this was his
father's friend; his father, who in exile never forgot that he
was a soldier and a knight. He gave the letter; and, when Guinigi
had read it, he embraced the orphan son of his old comrade, and
welcomed him with a cordiality that warmed the heart of Castruccio.
The name of a stranger soon struck the ear of Arrigo, his little
son, who came with joy to greet him, bearing a large basket of
grapes and figs. Guinigi was much amused by the evident
astonishment with which his guest regarded the appearance of the
house and its master, and said:--"You come to the dwelling of
a peasant who eats the bread his own hands have sown; this is a new
scene for you, but you will not find it uninstructive. To my eyes,
which do not now glance with the same fire as yours, the sight of
the bounties of nature, and of the harmless peasants who cultivate
the earth, is far more delightful than an army of knights hasting
in brilliant array to deluge the fields with blood, and to destroy
the beneficial hopes of the husbandman. But these are new doctrines
to you; and you perhaps will never, like me, in the deep sincerity
of your heart, prefer this lowly cottage to yonder majestic
castle."
    To say the truth, Castruccio was greatly disappointed. As he had
ascended from the town, and saw a gay banner waving from the keep
of the castle, as he heard the clash of armour, and beheld the
sun-beams glitter on the arms of the centinel, he hoped that he
should find his future protector a favourite with the happy chief.
He would, he felt, have accosted him with more respect, if he had
found him a monk in the neighbouring monastery, than a contented
farmer, a peasant whose narrow views soared not beyond the wine-vat
and the ox's stall.
    These were the first feelings that occurred to Castruccio; but
he soon found that he was introduced to a new world in the society
of Guinigi; a world with whose spring of action he could not
sympathize, yet which he could not condemn. It was characterized by
a simple yet sublime morality, which resting on natural bases,
admitted no factitious colouring. Guinigi thought only of the duty
of man to man, laying aside the distinctions of society, and with
lovely humility recognized the affinity of the meanest peasant to
his own noble mind. Exercising the most exalted virtues, he also
cultivated a taste and imagination that dignified what the vulgar
would term ignoble, as the common clouds of day become fields of
purple and gold, painted by the sun at eve. His fancy only paused,
when he would force it to adorn with beauty vice, death, and
misery, when disguised by a kingly robe, by the trappings of a
victorious army, or the false halo of glory spread over the smoking
ruins of a ravaged town. Then his heart sickened, and the banners
of triumph or the song of victory could not drive from his
recollection the varieties of death, and the groans of torture